


young folks

by yojin (MnM_PD)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: "for now this will do. until then this will do.", Angst, Canon Compliant, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, M/M, Milkbread, SUGAR by Brockhampton, Slow Build, Swearing, accidental 49k words of an oikawa character study, ao3 deleted the last 10k words before but i fixed it now, i dont live in japan so if some parts are Highly Questionable im Sorry, i meant for this to be a cute bite sized fic but suddenly it was an oikawa chara study, iwaoi - Freeform, sour gummies and jellies, would u believe that i wrote these 49k words on iphone notes app in less than two months, young folks by peter bjorn and john
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:29:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 49,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23724607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MnM_PD/pseuds/yojin
Summary: oikawa thinks he’s got infatuation on sour gummies. wait, he meant indigestion.
Relationships: Futakuchi Kenji/Oikawa Tooru, Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei
Comments: 25
Kudos: 43





	1. young folks.

**Author's Note:**

> hi! welcome to this oifuta fic and in this universe, we’ll pretend seijoh & dateko are a lil close to each other that oifuta might cross paths on their commute or whatever. also, please watch the seijoh bonus clip after they lost to karasuno first if you haven't ! and manga spoilers too !
> 
> this is going to be my first published fic that went over 10k words and i stopped checking my word count after 18k bc i’ve never bled this much words for anything before. o god. (my throat was super dry as i stared at my laptop's screen, overthinking a fuck ton before publishing this.)
> 
> btw, if u see a song while reading, please listen to it and/or read the lyrics teehee.
> 
> timeline is based from @/lightveils on twitter !!
> 
> (i want to say thank you to my lab rat (aka sister) makitaechim (MnM_PD) who first read this fic and told me things i didn't notice! ily. sorry for not knowing sour gummies and jellies are different + the foolish king moment.)

It was a rather peaceful Monday, and with the sun just about to set, Oikawa is on his way home as he usually does because it is his rest day, but this particular Monday is different. He feels like someone was cursing him because of this decision, and someone really probably is, but he walks on even if he was feeling a little guilty. He’s already too far from the school to turn back and swallow his ‘very useless pride’.

A cold breeze hits him and he shivers as he puts his fists inside his pockets, the weather reminding him that winter is about to replace the nice autumn weather he took for granted earlier than it should be. He’s not sure if it’s because of that which makes him think about things he shouldn’t, like feeling like a tree. It doesn’t make much sense but he feels as if his leaves are all dead, and the universe doesn’t care as it envelops him in a cold, insensitive hug, not even giving him time to breathe.

He shrugs the thoughts away and takes a quick breath to bring himself back from overthinking, but it’s one of his hidden talents, therefore he fails. There was only one thing on Earth that wouldn’t fail him though, and it was the bakery he often visits on the commute home. It’s on a fairly busy street of stores, diners, and small shops.

He takes a right turn towards the mellow hum of people trading. He starts to hear some kind of happy tune in his head as his feet get a little bouncy with every step closer towards his favorite baking lady when two boys run past him competitively to then stop in front of the candy store.

One of them poses victoriously and says something about the other boy buying the lollipops because he lost the race. Oikawa snickers to himself when the boy who lost places his hands on his waist and says that he’ll beat the other tomorrow in order to tie their scores at 18. It was such a kid thing to do because he remembers doing that as well with Iwaizumi. Friendly competitions.

_ The better times _ .

Oikawa rarely sees anyone in that candy store when he passes it to buy bread and he used to wonder how it survives. He probably didn’t use enough brain cells on the thought because there was an elementary school near here, and that’s a big target customer group already for the business. He always visits here when it’s already dark though, and brats aren’t allowed to walk around at that time anymore so that’s why he wasn’t able to deduce that with the limited amount of effort for critical thinking he reserves for those unrelated to volleyball, academics, and extraterrestrials. He wishes he didn’t set half of his brain for aliens and conspiracy theories then used it for common sense instead... or maybe just a quarter of his brain.

He looks inside the brightly lighted establishment of candies in curiosity of what the boys from earlier were doing, but his curiosity gets stolen by somebody else inside the shop.

At the right side of the store was somebody close to his age, wearing the tracksuit of an opponent school. He recognizes the person but, intrigued and wanting to confirm if it is who he thinks it is, he takes a step back and crouches closer to the glass for a better glimpse of the person’s face.

He almost snorts. It amusingly surprises Oikawa that the guy had a frown on his face while staring at the sour gummies options.

_ Child _ .

Oikawa shakes his head with a smirk while continuing to walk towards his objective, thinking about how absurdly humorous it is to see a brooding six feet tall man among little kids with snot smeared grins. He looked like any other kid wanting some candy if he wasn’t just towering over the other customers and shelves, but he is, and Oikawa is shallow sometimes, he thinks that that was funny. The opponent school is a little too far to be just a walking distance from this street, so Oikawa wonders how he came here.

With a chuckle, his smile grows even bigger as the comforting smell and warm welcome of freshly baked bread approach him like a blanket against the coming winter. Cheerfully and loudly, he greets the best lady baker in town and orders  _ three ultra fluffy milk bread rolls _ ,  _ please! _

—

__

The bread rolls were hot, but not hot enough to stop Oikawa from eating one immediately as he walked to the bus stop. He won’t deny it, nor is he stopping it anymore, but now there really is a happy bounce in his steps. Milk bread simply makes him happy, makes him remember childhood, or simply... the better times.

He nears the waiting shed while slightly skipping and almost chokes on his bread when he sees the same sour gummy teenager from earlier sitting at the bench of the bus stop, slowly gnawing on a rainbow-colored sour tape dangling between his lips as he stares blankly at his feet, his hands in his jacket’s pockets. A bus comes and lets some passengers get down, and the boy didn’t even flinch, just continuing to annihilate the sour tape as it gets shorter and shorter.

If this guy was one of his teammates, he would have already taken a video or a photo for blackmail purposes because would anybody let themselves be seen like this? Would you let yourself be seen in public, having an existential crisis while eating snacks for kids?

Oikawa didn’t realize his footsteps were getting loud enough to distract the guy out of his daze, and when his head whips towards Oikawa, they both just stare for a second. Oikawa with a half-eaten milk bread roll on his right hand and his left arm clutching two more, the other with an inch of sour tape left between his lips and the pack of sour tapes together with fallen sugar remains on his lap.

Oikawa speaks first, “Oh, if isn’t it Dateko’s second year captain and ace. Futakuchi-chan, wasn’t it?”

Futakuchi, slurps the remaining portion of the sour tape before smiling and saying, “Oh, if it isn’t Seijoh’s third year captain and setter who thinks he has the right to call everyone with the suffix ‘-chan’. Oikawa- _ san _ , wasn’t it?”

Oikawa huffs, annoyed yet amused with the sarcasm and obvious disdain in the younger’s voice. Futakuchi sighs as he looks away from Oikawa, and he’s not really sure why he’s given this kind of treatment, but Oikawa’s the kind of person who also serves back what is being put on his table with more garnishing.

“Ah, I’m sorry. You looked like an 8 year old kid who hasn’t been fetched by his parent yet and now he’s sulking.” Oikawa, just as arrogant, but really a slight bit more, says back.

“Yes, I’m an 8 year old eating sour tape alone with a sad face while waiting for my bus because my mom won’t pick me up. How about you, what are you doing with three  _ rolls of bread _ ?” Futakuchi says with an eye roll. Oikawa wants to laugh but that last part pulled a bad string inside his head.

“Are you insulting bread, Futakuchi-chan? And this isn’t just  _ rolls of bread _ , it’s ultra fluffy milk bread rolls for your information. Though simple kinds of bread are good too, as long as it’s from baker grandma.” Oikawa then eats the remaining half on his hand and sits comfortably on the bench as well.

“Baker grandma?”

“The bakery right beside the candy store where you awfully stick out from the rest bc you’re an overgrown brat. Was it that hard to pick what sour gummy to eat? Your face was so serious earlier like it was the only thing that mattered.”

He had expected another quick retort but then he realizes that he basically admitted watching the other at the candy store earlier. Oikawa didn’t want Futakuchi to know the fact that he minds other people’s business, or that nosing around people’s lives is his hobby.

“So you really  _ looked at me _ at the candy store?” There was something sticky in the way Futakuchi says that sentence, but Oikawa doesn’t want to look like he cares, so he shrugs and admits it with a simple, “Yes, and what about it?“

Futakuchi’s eyes are back on him and Oikawa holds it; he felt the competition and didn’t want to lose it.

“So I see you care so much about my food choice, then mind if I ask why milk bread rolls?” Futakuchi says, taking another piece of sour tape and letting it hang between his lips once again, slowly chewing through it like a machine.

“It's been my comfort food since kindergarten. What about you, why sour gummies? I don’t really care though.” Oikawa says and waves a hand with a teasing smile before eating another piece of his bread rolls.

Futakuchi looks away, raises his shoulders, and speaks through his teeth while still eating a sour tape, “Basically the same as yours, I guess.”

There is silence again and a car passes them by, bringing a cold breeze with it. Oikawa chews slowly before speaking softly, “Something bothering you then?”

He changes his tone back to teasing, “What’s the reason behind you devouring a pack of rainbow-colored sour tapes in a matter of minutes like it can’t give you indigestion?”

“Rainbow for gay rights, and I simply eat sour gummies all the time. I don’t get indigestion from it but I do get mouth sores.” Futakuchi rambles and debates, but Oikawa feels like he’s just avoiding the subject. Who wouldn’t though? They’re literally just two strangers that have only interacted two days ago last Saturday on different sides of the net,  _ and  _ as opponents.

“Stress also causes mouth sores.” He says, ignoring the rest and then connecting it back to his inquiry.

“Oohh? I wasn’t aware of that. Thank you for the great contribution to my knowledge. It’s not like it doesn’t run in the family and that I don’t experience it myself.” The younger says with an innocent childish tone as his mocking touch.

Oikawa laughs it off then and decides he wasn’t going to pry anymore, because if somebody doesn’t want to bring their walls down, he’d respect that. He’s a nobody in this person’s life anyway.

“But yeah, I’ve been thinking about how you guys beat us.” Futakuchi unexpectedly says, and Oikawa stares in a daze. No wonder all he got from him earlier was playful disrespect. If Oikawa was bothered by someone, and that very person appears right in front of him with an obnoxious smile and voice, he would have punched a wall. Or even a face.

“Our third years retired before spring high, and suddenly I was the one responsible for the team.” Futakuchi says and Oikawa’s a little taken aback that he‘s still talking.

“I can’t help but think I failed Moniwa-san. I wanted to make him proud, but I think he trusted me too much to be a responsible captain, and yet, I—“ Futakuchi takes a big breath and signs as he brings a hand to his face, massaging his temples circularly, his eyes closed.

“Sorry. I couldn’t bring my pathetic ass to practice today because I feel so ashamed, and now that I’ve met someone well versed as a volleyball team captain, I can’t help but wish you could just tell me a secret recipe to become a reliable one.” Futakuchi pauses to look at Oikawa.

“I’m sorry, please ignore all of that.” Futakuchi tries to smile, but it was more of a tired, self-pitying smirk, then he immediately looks away.

Oikawa thinks it didn’t suit Futakuchi, so he inhales and exhales to prep himself to talk.

“Hey, Futakuchi-chan.” He calls out, slightly tilting his head to look at Futakuchi’s face better since he had his head bowed down a little.

From looking at the floor, Futakuchi flutters his brown eyelashes once before looking back at Oikawa again, staring without any emotion.

“It’s your team.” Oikawa simply says, straightforward, and then he adds, “You’ll find out your own secret recipe soon.”

Futakuchi’s eyes blink, and then again, before straightening his posture and nodding. He stops to curve his spine again, then he looks like he wanted to say something so Oikawa gave him the silence he needed to sort out his thoughts.

“Remember what you told me when we shook hands?” Futakuchi mutters, but Oikawa wasn’t sure if he heard it right so he hums to ask the other to repeat it.

They are disturbed by the honk of an incoming bus, and they both look at it. The bus is what Oikawa has to get onto.

“Oh, that’s my bus.” He looks expectantly at Futakuchi as he stands up, but Futakuchi smiles politely and shakes his head.

“Nah, I get on a different one. You go on ahead, Oikawa-san.” He says, and Oikawa realizes his first impression on him was a little too one dimensional. Futakuchi has other sides of him; he’s not just a jerk on the other side of the net. Sometimes he’s vulnerable, and sometimes he  _ can  _ be decent too.

“Okay, I’ll go ahead then.” Oikawa says as the last passenger to go down the bus passed him.

“Have a safe trip. Let’s not meet again.” Futakuchi says with his default shit eating grin, the same one he wears when he’s on the court as Oikawa has observed before.

“You too, captain noob.” He winks, and instead of getting offended at the nickname, Futakuchi laughs at it.

Oikawa boards the bus, and as he sits down, he looks back at Futakuchi while the bus moves forward.

That guy is sucking on his sour tapes already, with a different kind of blankness in his eyes.

The view quickly changes to mountains and fields, so he thinks about what Futakuchi has asked.

_ What I said when we shook hands, huh? _

Oikawa sadly smiles.

_ That he still has next year? _

Though their meeting was short, Oikawa learned a lot about Futakuchi that moment. The hints were only so slight, but he wouldn’t have expected somebody who is having a breakdown about their own loss to be concerned about somebody else’s, especially that of who they lost to.

_ Yeah, I don’t. _

—

“I-Iwa-chan, calm down. The girls are looking this way, don’t traumatize them with such a violent memory.” Oikawa tries to beg for his life, hands in front of him while a muscular beast with rolled up sleeves despite the cool weather threatens to cut his life short. He wishes his chair would just swallow him to safety, or rather, that’s a more peaceful way to die.

“Hey, hey. Do that in the gym later, Iwaizumi.” A voice butts in. Oikawa looks and sees Hanamaki pulling up a chair to sit on it wrongly because ‘ _ gay people can’t sit properly _ ’.

“You have plenty of space if you beat him up there instead.” Matsukawa, just behind Hanamaki, adds as he walked towards a neighboring desk to lean half of his ass on it.

“Oh, everybody’s here! Pleasure to have all my friends visit me! I feel so loved.” Oikawa pretends to be touched as he places a hand on his chest, face looking like he’s about to cry.

A flick right at the center of his forehead made him drop the act and squeal, “Ow!”

“We have an elevated hatred and irritation than that of what we feel everyday towards you,  _ that’s _ why we’re here.” Iwaizumi hisses.

“ _ You _ announced that we’d have a meeting with the  _ whole team _ on Monday, so can you imagine how awkward it was yesterday without the captain himself?” Hanamaki says. There is a thread of annoyance linked with his voice, but his eyes are soft on Oikawa, a sheer look of worry in the furrow of his brows.

Oikawa shuts up and stops the purposefully vexing act. He’s ashamed of what absurd actions he made, but he actually feels better like this—surrounded by those he trusts that understand him. But... he’s cornered though,  _ not _ just surrounded. His friends show concern in the strangest ways and it appears he has gotten used to it and even found solace in it.

They just sit in silence, Oikawa not needing to apologize nor say excuses, then a package being ripped open disturbs the mood. Oikawa, Hanamaki, and Iwaizumi who are facing one another on a single desk look at the one beside them.

They all stare at Matsukawa who has a pack of rainbow-colored sour tapes on his hand, chewing on a piece like nothing of importance was being talked about. He even has the audacity to raise his brows and say, “What? Was it compulsory to care about Oikawa  _ and _ his feelings? I’m sad I didn’t get to be on the court for my last game in highschool, but do you see me wallowing in self pity like some guy?”

The three gape at him for a short moment, but they burst into bright laughter soon right after because yes, just like what they always say —  _ fuck Oikawa lives _ , right? And as Matsukawa has said, they all have their own sets of regrets to carry.

“Okay, whatever. But _ why _ are you eating rainbow-colored sour tapes?” Oikawa says with disgust. It reminds him of a certain brooding teenager he didn’t want to think about anymore.

Ever since last night, he kept on thinking what it truly means to be captain, what the secret recipe is, if he found his with the team he had, and if he and his recipe was enough. All because of that sour tape eating man.

Subconsciously, Oikawa grasps the snack away from Matsukawa and tosses it aside on his desk with a pout.

“Oikawa said no to gay rights.” Hanamaki mockingly states.

The humor reminds him more of that jerk so he scowls at them, “Shut up.”

Even if he had milk bread rolls last night, he wasn’t able to attain any kind of peace at all because... he was worried? Concerned? Or that he sees himself in the kid? Who knows? There were a million things he was already feeling and overthinking about by himself, and that guy added to it just in the second time they met. Maybe Futakuchi was right on what he said last night _ : let’s not meet again _ .

His pout grows into a deeper frown as he crosses his arms on his chest, wanting to think of anything else other than the sugar remnants on silly, smirking lips.

“Here,” Hanamaki brings him back to present, and Oikawa sees a flash of a hand holding a sour tape nearing his face, “You need some sugar in your life.”

“I—” He was going to protest against it, but when he opens his mouth, Hanamaki just inserts it right into his mouth so he has no choice but to shut it and eat his sugar.

It’s obviously going to be sour and sweet, and Oikawa doesn’t fancy the taste a lot, but he finds the flavor a little interesting so he lets himself get hooked for the moment.

“Oi, slow down. You’re supposed to share food with your friends.” Iwaizumi warns him when he takes another piece at a fast pace. He only replies with a half-sincere nod because Iwaizumi only verbally says they’re friends when it’s convenient for him.

He chews on his next piece and feels his stomach turn like it’s about to get indigestion, but he still swallows anyway.

—

“I have been made aware of my grave mistake from yesterday,” Oikawa dramatically states, standing in front of the whole team of Aoba Johsai, “And for my stunningly idiotic and imprudent actions, I would like to deeply apologize.”

He bows at a perfect right angle, then one of the third years behind him pushes his ass forward with their foot. He looks at them but didn’t catch the culprit so he shoots them a glare one by one as quick as he could while they snicker to themselves. He stands back up after it and takes a deep breath.

Just yesterday, somebody thought he was a well versed captain that knows the secret recipe to being a reliable one. It amused him because right now, it feels like the exact opposite of that. He’s not so confident his own secret recipe was the best one because of the fact that he never was able to bring this team to nationals. It‘s a truth he’d never escape from. He’s scared, insecure, and ashamed, yet he still has his useless pride and now he’s found himself tongue tied.

He doesn’t know where to start, but he can’t run away anymore. Like, metaphorically and literally because Iwaizumi is right there, watching him like a hawk, making sure he won’t do anything stupid, but he really doesn’t know how to do this. Not sure of what to say, not sure what the members want to hear, and definitely not sure of himself, even more this time.

Oikawa swallows, and it hurts to do so, it was as if there were barbed wires wrapped around the inside of his throat, but he pushes through. He can say a lot of things right now—self-pity, apologies, compliments, hopes for the future—but none of them would feel genuine if he said it right now, so there’s only one thing left.

Just like what he said in this very court last Saturday to the third years, he breathes a lungful of air.

“Thank you—” He starts but he chokes on the next words despite having said it before already.

Oikawa tries to show a smile while feeling the tears building up once more, then he softly says it.

“Thank you for the three years that have passed,  _ team _ .”

When the younger years start crying, Oikawa thinks of it as the right opportunity to step down on his captaincy and gives the title to a kid subtly biting down on his lip so he would not look upset. Unexpectedly, some of the third years were also crying again as if they haven’t yet, but Oikawa joins them too when the coach started his own speech for the team.

As they were dismissed, Oikawa feels it in his bones that he surely would miss this court and this team.

—

Oikawa and Iwaizumi are on their way home now, walking the road they always have walked on together, their paths never have separated for too far since meeting each other. Oikawa thought it would have been nice if it stayed that way, but those were the better times. Things change, no matter how one desires things not to.

They only walk in silence with some few sniffles from Oikawa. He cried a little too hard than he would have liked again, but what can he do? He’s sentimental, like deeply so, which he’d hidden for too long and that’s why the feelings bottled inside exploded all together with the tears he kept for years in his lacrimal glands.

He hears an unexpected sniff from Iwaizumi, and it surprises him so he takes a glance, squinting to see better under the moonlight.

“Are you still crying?” Oikawa asks, genuine, but even to him it still sounded like he was teasing so maybe he did deserve the punch he received from the other.

“Shut up.” Iwaizumi says with another sniff, and Oikawa obliges, not having anything to say anyway.

They walk on, the sound of their sneakers hitting the pavement being a comforting sound, and yet it also sounds like a looming bitter farewell. In some months now, this routine of theirs would be halted and would then be two separate ones. Oikawa’s, and Iwaizumi’s.

Biting the inside of his mouth, Oikawa stops himself from saying something cheesy like ‘i’ll miss you’, because they already know that. They already talked about it before, and they promised that they would crush each other the next time they meet through the different sides of the net with a fist bump, but there are still some things left unsaid. Oikawa thinks he’d just start that talk someday and keep it hush for now because he doesn’t want to cry anymore.

“Come over next week. My mom says she misses you since you don’t visit her anymore.” Iwaizumi says, bumping Oikawa’s arms a little.

“Mm?” Oikawa looks at him with a questioning look, and he smiles apologetically, “Okay, will do.”

They have been a constant for each other in everything ever since they were kids, even their families are entwined together too, but Oikawa feels the need to go astray now. Like he needs to let go of this because he depended on it for too long. It would be hard, but with small steps, maybe he can. So then he speaks out, “Hey, Iwa-chan. I’m going to stop by somewhere—"

“Sure. Where?”

“Ah, no.” Oikawa stands his ground, a slight ache in his chest.

Iwaizumi, who is a step ahead of him, looks back with a confused look, so he supplies further information, “I meant, alone.”

“Oh.” Iwaizumi says, understanding it immediately and then nodding, “Okay, but where though? Is it going to be far? It’s late already, Shittykawa. What are you planning to do?”

Oikawa chuckles, and shakes his head, “Don’t worry, Iwa-chan. I’m not going too far, I just need some fresh air.”

“You can just simply say milk bread, you know.” Iwaizumi butts in right after Oikawa finishes his sentence and it makes him snort, then continues to laugh, because Iwaizumi really is his best friend, isn’t he?

“Yeah. I do.” Oikawa whispers, mostly to himself.

He feels his best friend's stare on him, and then he hears, “You really wanna go alone? Are you...“

Oikawa shows him a tired smile, “Stop frowning, you’ll get wrinkles. I’ll be okay, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi nods, and without going out of his very violent character, he comforts him with a pat on his back which is too hard it can pass as a beating.

—

From what has transpired earlier, Oikawa said fresh air. Iwaizumi translated that to milk bread. So why the hell is he inside the candy store as a six feet tall highschooler, brooding over sour gummy and sour jelly choices? It’s late already and no kids are around—it’s just him, the shelves, and the man who is probably in his late 50s or early 60s behind the cashier that greeted him earlier just like he was any other snotty brat that came in to buy their small happiness. As if it was normal to see a guy  _ his age _ in  _ this store _ at  _ this time _ .

Oikawa’s not sure how long he has wasted already when he hears the same chime of the bell he did as he entered the shop some something minutes ago.

“Oh!” The old man suddenly speaks and it catches Oikawa’s attention so he looks behind him to see the man smiling so fondly, “Ji-chan, you’re too late today.”

“Yeah, sorry  _ jiichan _ . I put myself in trouble since I didn’t go to practice yesterday. My team, especially Nametsu, was so mad at me. I’m actually thankful I’m still in one piece.” A familiar voice responds and Oikawa freezes at where he stands. Guess it really was normal for the man to see a guy his age in this store at this time.

Oikawa tries to crouch to make himself smaller, but with a height that’s taller than the shelves, it’s utterly futile trying to hide.

The owner, Oikawa assumes, cackles heartily, “Aw, Ji-chan. Don’t anger the manager too much.”

There’s a genuine giggle from the other, and it felt closer than earlier, “I’m trying, jiichan. I really am.”

Oikawa is already panicking, not sure what the reason is because why should he care if  _ Ji-chan _ sees him? Why should he try to trot away so quietly like he’s a kid that has an unpaid candy in his pocket?

“You’re doing enough, kid. Don’t overthink it.” The old man speaks again.

There was a slight chuckle brought along with gentle footsteps behind him, and when it stopped, somebody spoke. Monotonously. Nothing like the tone he was using to talk with the old man.

“Oh. It’s you again.”

Oikawa stops in his tracks as he inhales sharply and holds it in.

He got caught.

Well, he’s already been seen, so now he just has to embody a fake him that has a sensible reason as to why he’s in this candy store. He slowly exhales to compose himself and turns his head towards the younger to show his own default obnoxious smile. He greets with a sing-song voice, “Oh, hello,  _ Ji-chan _ . Fancy meeting you here.”

Oikawa thinks he saw that Futakuchi was about to say something insolent after his eye twitched with displeasure when Oikawa said the nickname used by the old man, yet he stopped and squinted at Oikawa with a look instead. It is so fast that it is already gone when Oikawa thought of investigating it.

“So, Oikawa-san.” Futakuchi says, still monotonous, confusing Oikawa what it really is that is going on inside his head.

He reaches for a tub of gummy bears, sticks it between his upper body and left arm before blankly looking at the other to ask with a bored tone, “To what reason do we owe your presence? Have you perhaps not yet realized that you entered the wrong store?”

The inquiry hits Oikawa like a slap because, one, he doesn’t know as well. Two, he’s aware when he decided to enter this shop, but for why he stayed, his answer is the same as for the first.

“My nephew’s visiting tomorrow, my dad said I should buy some snacks for kids on the way home.” That’s a lie made up by his split-second decision making skills, but he thinks it’s believable enough to let him continue sailing and not get caught in an iceberg.

“Ah. Did he ever try to eat worms before?” Futakuchi, whether or not he believes Oikawa, seriously asks, and Oikawa’s brows scrunch towards each other. Does that sound like a kind of question to be asked by a normal person? Oikawa himself isn’t normal anyway so he goes ahead and answers without asking why, “Yes.”

“Then buy gummy worms. Personally, I don’t like the realistic transparent ones because of the texture, but he might. Tell him it’s the kind of worms you can eat.” Futakuchi says like he was just talking about the weather, and it baffles Oikawa. Are sour gummy and jellies really just a normal part of his life that he can talk about it as if it’s nothing?

Futakuchi walks off towards the counter and Oikawa just watches. The owner says something about not allowing Futakuchi to buy a whole tub, and he hears a  _ geh _ before Oikawa moves his limbs again, grabbing a pack of slightly realistic gummy worms and follows suit.

“Ehh, jiichan, you  _ can’t _ do this to me.”

“No. You used to complain about how your teeth always hurt and it’s getting better since I banned you from hoarding.”

“I’m brushing my teeth even more these days! Please.” Futakuchi pleads, now with a childish voice. Oikawa gets close enough to see Futakuchi’s lips in a pout, trying to look pitiful or cute, Oikawa’s not sure because he looks none of the two options since he’s like, a whole head taller than the man he’s begging. He should resort to threats instead, that might work better.

“No.” The old man says, closing his eyes and crossing his arms. A very effective move to use against kids.

“Okay! I won’t come tomorrow.” Futakuchi says, his fist on top of the counter tightening, and yet his begs still do not reach the old man’s heart.

Oikawa doesn’t really get the exchange much, but from what he sees, he concludes that the old man is pretty tough _. _

“I won’t come for two days?” Futakuchi tries again, and this time he gets a response, but it was negative.

Futakuchi makes a sound resembling a growl, and as if it took all his effort to say it, “Okay, three days.”

“Deal.” The owner cheerfully says as he scans the tub of gummies. Futakuchi opts to defeatedly sprawl his upper body all over the counter. For a six feet tall volleyball player to look like that inside a candy shop, Oikawa feels the embarrassment instead. Where’s all his toughness from being a part of  _ the iron wall _ ? Honestly, Oikawa thought Dateko’s nickname as the Iron Wall was cool but seeing the captain up close, he doubts the actual team members are also true to their name and reputation.

Futakuchi continues to sulk as the owner gestured for Oikawa to hand over the product he wants to buy as well. Oikawa gets closer to Futakuchi who is laying on his stomach atop the counter still, not even caring to give space.

“Seriously, just how old are you?” Oikawa says, a little like shaming, but he couldn’t stop himself from saying it.

“I’m 16 years old,  _ Oikawa-san. _ Is there any problem with that at all?” Futakuchi answers, and there’s something rude in the way he said his name. Does Futakuchi feel that much spite for him that his name simply irks him? These kinds of situations make Oikawa self aware sometimes, but that’s all it ever leads to. Just, awareness. No change, because is there a need? None. Of course.

“Oikawa-kun, is it? Are you friends?” The old man asks.

The two of them quickly answers at the same time, “No.”

Then they snap their heads towards each other for a glaring contest right after, and unfortunately, Oikawa lost this time.

“Oh, I just noticed that you’re wearing a different tracksuit. Let me see...” The old man squints at the small print of his jacket and realizes his bag strap was covering the other letters so he moves it away and shows him, “Right, Aoba Johsai. You guys beat Ji-chan’s team yesterday, didn’t ya?”

It was Oikawa’s time to  _ geh _ .

“You’re their captain, right?” The owner says, pushing his glasses to a better position as he scans Oikawa.

“Y-Yes.” Oikawa stutters, worried if he’s about to be kicked out or charged higher because he beat his favorite volleyball boy, a.k.a the asshole still on top of the counter, rolling his eyes at Oikawa like the  _ petty bitch _ he is.

Oikawa doesn’t know what’s up between them, really. They have hatred for each other but it seems as if it is just because of a shallow reason like hating each other’s guts or faces, so then why do they act like it is so deep?

“Ohoho.” The old man giggles, not exactly comprehending what the reason is, or if there is a logical reason for it. Did he say or do something funny?

“Ji-chan’s a whiny baby sometimes, and last Saturday he mentioned, may I quote, a good looking captain with an ugly attitude.” He says as he packs Oikawa’s gummy worms in a paper bag. There was a faint embarrassed flush on Oikawa’s face and so he tried to look for the same shade on Futakuchi but there was none on that little shit. It’s like he’s sure he was only stating the facts. Though he’s  _ right _ about that description, it still makes Oikawa‘s face feel hot from shyness.

He just gestures and murmurs to the owner that there’s no need to put it in a bag as he grabs his purchase and puts it in one of his sports bag’s many pockets, giving himself something to do except being red.

“Y’know what I told him?” He continues after Oikawa gives the exact payment, and Oikawa raises his brows to show the old man he’s still listening even if he feels a little awkward hearing about a conversation that has him as the topic.

“That you sound a lot like him.” The old man laughs, and when Futakuchi raises his head and stands tall, he laughs even louder.

“And that’s what bothers me!” Futakuchi uses a purposefully offending thumb to point at him, “This guy?” Then he points his thumb at himself, “And me? The same??”

Oikawa strongly feels the loathing coming from Futakuchi’s words, but is it really so bad to be like him? On second thought, yes. It is. Very. He wouldn’t wish anybody to be like him too.

“I am  _ slightly _ aware but hearing it from somebody I trusted that would be on  _ my _ side is just truly heartbreaking.” Futakuchi says, sounding like he’s sulking again.

“Yeah, we’re  _ both _ horrible people. Stop crying about it, brat.” Oikawa says with an eye roll, and honest to god he did not mean to, but he raised his hand towards Futakuchi’s hair.

He stops right before his hand lands and touches it when the old man says, “Looks like you guys are going to be good friends, huh.”

“No!” They shout simultaneously once again, and in the way the old man chortles, he was very obviously making fun of them right in front of their faces.

—

They walked out of the store after  _ jiichan _ —the old man insisted that Oikawa call him that from now on too because Futakuchi calls him jiichan even if they aren’t blood related—scolds them to go home already since it’s quite late and growing brats like the two of them should have enough hours of sleep. They find out that they have a 0.1cm difference in height after that, Oikawa being taller, so that is what they are intensely bickering about as they walk towards the bus stop.

“Are you  _ sure _ you’re 184 _.3 _ cm tall? Didn’t they include the  _ poof _ of your hair?” Futakuchi asks, the same one he’s been asking with different sets and arrangements of words but always emphasizing the ‘ _ point three’  _ part of it. He angrily chews the three gummy bears he put in his mouth earlier and Oikawa feels a little sympathy to the inanimate objects on the receiving end of Futakuchi’s unreasonable anger.

“For the hundredth time,  _ yes _ . You say  _ poof _ like it’s a bad thing, but what did I expect from someone who has such a flat and boring hairstyle anyway?” Oikawa says, throwing a judgemental squint towards Futakuchi’s milk chocolate brown hair.

“I like it prim and proper, Oikawa- _ san _ , and what were you trying to do earlier anyway? Was it that flat and boring for you that you wanted to ruffle it to a poof like yours?” Futakuchi does it again, disrespectfully saying ‘-san’ for the irony of it.

“Stop saying  _ Oikawa-san _ if you don’t respect me anyway.” Oikawa says, ignoring the other things he didn’t want to answer because he, himself, did not know what it was he was about to do earlier as well. Was it to ruffle his hair? Pat his head? Or maybe smack him? The last one sounds possible.

“Also, stop being bitter about me being taller than you. Maybe if you ate milkbread instead of that junk.” Oikawa spits, his mouth in a strong pout and a raised brow as if asserting dominance.

“Yeah, as if milkbread really has shit to do with height, but, talking about milkbread,” In the latter part of what Futakuchi said, his frown slowly goes away and the mischief eternally laced with his voice is toned down to the point it’s almost non-existent, “Wasn’t that your breakdown food?”

“I think you meant comfort food.” Oikawa says, just for the heck of it. His danger senses get triggered when Futakuchi converts down his energy to be annoying to actually be serious instead.

“That sounds optimistic, breakdown food suits our mood better.”

It makes sense, and Oikawa actually wants to agree with the stupid idea but, “ _ Our _ ?”

“Okay, I speak for myself, and myself  _ only _ then. Sorry.” Futakuchi rolls his shoulders then pops another gummy bear into his mouth.

Oikawa blows raspberries, responding to a childish behavior with the same amount of childishness.

“Stop sulking every goddamn second.  _ Breakdown food _ it is.” Oikawa says and he lets a smile slip, not sure what the reason is. That happens a lot these days, him not knowing why. Is his impulsive behavior getting way too out of hand?

“Glad to know we reached an agreement, so, now you talk.” Futakuchi says, offering Oikawa gummy bears. He won’t inform Futakuchi about this but he actually enjoys gummy bears a lot, so he grabs five and shoots one into his mouth.

“What you mean talk?” Oikawa lazily says, liking the taste and the chew of the green gummy bear he was eating.

“Your eyes are red and puffy. It’s obvious you cried or something. Why? Somebody dump you?” Futakuchi says while he puts a lid on his tub of gummy bears to stash it away inside his bag. Oikawa is dismayed that he wouldn't be able to grab some more gummy bears, but Futakuchi looks at him straight in the eyes, earnestly concerned about what might have made Oikawa shed tears.

Oikawa won’t inform Futakuchi about this too but if he just wasn’t enjoying the gummy bears, he would be stunned on his ground, touched by the fact that he cared to ask. Futakuchi really can just flip a switch and be a sensible person at whim, and it gives Oikawa a strange whiplash.

A titter escapes his lips, nervous and self-conscious, a bit too much that he goes through the other four gummy bears without consciously doing it. He forgot that his eyes get puffy when he cries, which was the sole reason why he didn’t like crying. If he cried at night, people would still see evidence of it in the next morning, and he didn’t want to show anyone this kind of vulnerability he has. Weirdly enough though, he doesn’t despise the fact that Futakuchi was able to observe that.

“You wanna talk about it?” Futakuchi carefully asks again, and Oikawa appreciates that he isn’t forcing Oikawa to open up.

He makes a defeated sigh and gives in to talking, “Well, like you, I also didn’t go to practice yesterday, or more specifically, I announced last Saturday that the whole team would have a meeting on Monday even if it was my rest day, and I... you know,  _ didn’t go _ .”

“We’re shitty captains.” Futakuchi silently says as to not interrupt Oikawa but it makes him chuckle so he still paused anyway. Futakuchi shows him a humored smile, then he nods at him, encouraging Oikawa to continue.

“Mmm.” Oikawa hums, “Yesterday was supposed to be my last day as captain in front of the whole team, so it just really got me thinking.” Oikawa says, looking at the night sky above them, “That, ‘ _ Fuck _ .  _ I never got to nationals _ .’”

Oikawa bitterly snickers, a mock to himself. The puff of his breath reminding him that the evening is on the cold side though not the harsh kind. It is quite gentle. Just like how Futakuchi is dead silent, but Oikawa’s sure he’s listening well, so he continues, “I never got to wipe the floor with Ushijima’s ass.”

Oikawa bows down to look at his feet, accepting the feelings of defeat, “I feel pathetic. Even earlier, when I was in front of the whole team, it was nagging at me from the back of my head.”

The unknown atmosphere Oikawa brought with what he said settles between them, together with the night’s faint sounds like an embrace. It’s not comforting, and it’s not suffocating either. It’s just there, and it’s enough. They walked for a long while, just the serenity of the night accompanying the two of them.

“It’s okay, Oikawa-san.”

He hears after a moment, and it is so simple, so small, but Oikawa felt relief, especially when Futakuchi said his name softly and with respect. He raises his head back up to see Futakuchi’s expression, but instead he sees those eyes looking ahead as if Oikawa was in front of him.

“Nothing wrong with being vulnerable and feeling pathetic. It’s okay. You’re free to simply just breathe right now.” Futakuchi finishes, this time staring straight at Oikawa who was beside him. Then he looks back on the road again, putting his hands inside his pockets, huffing an exhale.

_ This guy _ ... Oikawa’s lips were parted in a pleasant surprise.

Futakuchi did not try to comfort him nor justify his loss. Not even an encouragement for the future to keep on fighting or to get stronger so that someday he would win. Not even sarcasm which Oikawa expected him to say in order to lift the mood back up.

Oikawa smiles and lightly hits Futakuchi’s shoulder with his palm, “You can be mature sometimes, huh?”

The younger turns his head towards him and shows a disappointed look, “Yes. Apparently _, unlike_ _you_.”

Oikawa only chuckles at that remark, because at the face of serious talk, he responds with bad humor that reeks of immaturity.

Oikawa is glad that Futakuchi spoke for the present. For what Oikawa  _ is _ , right at this moment. He’s letting Oikawa decide on what perspective he should use to look at the situation. He didn’t influence him, he just made Oikawa’s feelings be validated, and he wonders why that made his chest feel a little lighter, and why he can breathe a little better.

He couldn’t share this predicament of his with his team, and not even his best friend Iwaizumi. He told himself that he has to carry this alone, that this should just be on him. He shouldn’t let anybody else be burdened by his insecurities. That’s why telling it to someone he barely knows and someone who doesn’t know his life and past felt liberating. Mostly because the stranger was a good listener, but also because he knows there would be no previous assumption about what his point of view would be like. He was tired of hearing that he’s done all he could, that he did his best, and that he’ll do better next time, because if that was all he could, and if that was his best, then how can he be  _ better _ next time? How can he climb  _ higher  _ than that of what his  _ best _ did?

_ You’re free to simply just breathe right now _ . It rings again inside Oikawa’s head, and it prompts a fluttering feeling inside his ribcage, intoxicating his system for the better with a lungful of fresh air.

“Thank you.” Oikawa blurts out before realizing it, so he faces the opposite direction quickly. He doesn’t want to know what Futakuchi’s face would look like, nor does he want Futakuchi to see what his face looked like.

He hears a soft chuckle, and it makes him feel warm against the breeze that swept past the two of them. It’s been quite a while since he last felt this comfortable letting his emotions bare, letting himself be seen through, naked, raw. It feels...

The atmosphere gets broken when a horn from a distance not that far from where they were tears through the harmony made by the nighttime elements. Oikawa and Futakuchi stare at each other—a swift and silent agreement. Then they kick off the asphalt under their heels as they sprint towards the bus stop at the same time like a gun’s trigger was pulled to commence a race.

Oikawa has no reason to, but a short giggle escapes his lips. He sees Futakuchi smiling in his peripheral vision, seemingly sharing the same kind of high he was experiencing before asking with a sarcastically ironic tone, “What’s funny?”

“Nothing.” Oikawa says, looking ahead, still with a silly grin on his face, the wind caressing his face and brushing through his hair. He takes a deep breath, his eyes closed, his whole body clashing against the refreshing breeze.

_ This feels nice _ .

Oikawa opens his eyes, and the bus finally comes into their view. Oikawa realizes it’s the bus he has to get into again this time, but Futakuchi beat him into saying it, “That’s your bus, right? Go on ahead.”

They are still jogging as Oikawa manages to huff a  _ yeah _ , a little breathless, but he knows it wasn’t caused by running.

The bus makes a sound again, indicating that it is about to leave, so Oikawa runs harder than Futakuchi, looking back to wave his hand and say, “Bye!”

He sees a blurry glimpse of Futakuchi waving back as he boards the bus, then it immediately moves towards home even before Oikawa gets to sit himself or to even clearly see Futakuchi’s face one last time through the window.

Subconsciously, Oikawa pouts. There were some words he left unsaid.

_ See you around _ .

—

While waiting for the half of their group to arrive at the rooftop on their break time, Oikawa noticed that his pink haired friend isn’t as bright as his hair today. He sticks a finger on his friend’s waist to jolt him out of his headspace and as expected, Hanamaki squeaks.

Oikawa immediately asks, “What’s on your mind?”

“Jeez, are you a social media app?“ Hanamaki says, side-eyeing Oikawa.

“C’mon, blurt it out. Or if you aren’t comfortable to share it yet then don’t. I’ll wait until you find yourself able to share your troubles.” Oikawa says as he stretches his arms upwards, then lies down on the cemented floor. It’s not so comfortable, but it still feels relaxing because of the fresh air at this altitude.

Hanamaki hummed for a while, and Oikawa patiently waited.

Then he hears Hanamaki say it in a whisper, “My feelings for this guy I liked since middle school are getting stronger.”

Oikawa, a little caught off guard that it’s about romance, takes a look at Hanamaki’s face without making it obvious. Some people hide back inside their shell when they notice you physically see them being in their fragile state.

“Hm. What’s wrong with it?” He says back in a soft tone, being sensitive about the topic.

Hanamaki bit his lower lip, then said through gritted teeth, “I don’t think he’s like me, and I’m not sure if I can continue to stay the same.”

Oikawa is vaguely aware of who Hanamaki was talking about, and sometimes he notices the painful wince in Hanamaki’s eyes when this one person is affectionate with him without certainty. He smiles, he laughs, he loves him as a friend, but Oikawa sees the longing look in his eyes and he feels the ache that Hanamaki is going through.

“Can I... ask who it is?” Oikawa slowly asks, scared to cross the line he’s not sure he can cross just yet.

He sees Hanamaki smile in a defeated manner, “You know who it is, Oikawa.”

“So,” He tries again, one foot tiptoeing the other side of the line, and a whole foot on the other in case he is rejected and needs to back up, “Is it Mattsun?”

“ _ Duh _ .” Hanamaki says it like it doesn’t bother him, and Oikawa is relieved that his friend is comfortable enough with him to finally be able to talk about it freely like this.

“I’m glad you’re  _ finally _ telling me this  _ now _ . You can’t  _ pine _ for him alone  _ quietly _ like you used to, okay? Tell me  _ everything _ .” Oikawa says while sitting up, doting a finger at Hanamaki with every point he wanted emphasized.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Hanamaki says, pushing Oikawa away from the personal space he didn’t want to be invaded, but when Oikawa still didn’t move away, he just let it be.

Oikawa sighs, back to being serious about the conversation, “Well, what do you want to do?”

Instead of telling him what to do, or saying things that have no concrete basis, or words of encouragement that might sound silly, Oikawa decided to hear him out. To know what he wants to do in such a situation, if he needs help or advice. Much like what a sour gummy loving kid did for him last night.

“I’m not really sure. I don’t wanna risk what we’ve had together.” Hanamaki says, leaning on the wall and closing his eyes in distress.

“That’s a mood, and honestly, I don’t know what to tell you. He never opened up about relationships, and neither had a girlfriend nor a boyfriend.” Oikawa says, closing his eyes as well while he leans back on the wall like Hanamaki, mirroring the other’s pose with his legs outstretched and his hands joined together on top of his lap.

“What? Same situation?” Oikawa hears him say with a kittenish tone, and it humors Oikawa.

“Not quite, but yeah. We’ve known each other for so long as well, and even when I get a girlfriend, my emotions for him never changes. So far... it’s only been him.” Oikawa is not sure if it’s because Hanamaki truly opened up with his problems about his sexuality at last, but he felt like sharing his too.

“ _ Him _ .” Hanamaki repeats, and Oikawa opens his eyes to see beady ones looking at him with a curious and mischievous glint.

“What? Why? Yes,  _ him _ .” Oikawa raises his hands and wiggles his head, a gesture for ‘ _ and what about it _ ’?

“Are you homophobic only when it’s me or something?” Oikawa rolls his eyes, going back to his relaxed position, but he hears Hanamaki laugh together with a light punch on his bicep.

“It’s the first time you actually said  _ him _ , you dumb bitch.” Hanamaki says, a very proud smile and gaze directed at him.

“ _ Oh _ .” Oikawa realizes, and he shrugs it off with a happy smile, because whether that was on purpose or not, he actually feels good right now, like he had just let go of a heavy burden.

He hears Hanamaki sniggering, and the sound of it was quite suspicious so he looks that way. As soon as he saw his friend’s face, Hanamaki’s hand clutches on his shoulders, and Oikawa can feel the tremble of his body from his laughter.

“Let— Let me guess—“ Hanamaki snickers to himself again, barely able to spit out those words while trying to contain his laughter in vain.

Oikawa shakes his head, because sometimes, or too many times, his friends do show symptoms of having some of their screws loose.

“Let me guess who!” Hanamaki finally got himself to say without interruption from whatever it is that’s tickling his humor. His eyes were showing fake determination and seriousness, his lips in a confident smirk, but still visibly shaking from trying not to burst into a laughing fit.

“Okay.  _ Who _ ?” Oikawa dares back, playing along with the same strong gaze as he looks back into those mean irises.

Hanamaki’s face breaks into the stupidest look before saying, “It’s  _ Ushiwaka _ , isn’t it?”

Oikawa, even before fully processing the joke, becomes beet red from instinctive anger just by hearing the name and automatically slaps the back of Hanamaki’s head while the other is on his knees, nastily cackling his lungs out of his chest.

“ _God_ , _no_! With that attitude of his? No, _fuck_ _no_.” Oikawa shouts, harshly pushing Hanamaki’s upper body so he rolls on the floor to his back.

Still giggling, Hanamaki mimics Oikawa’s tone earlier, “So, so far it’s  _ only ever been Ushiwaka _ , huh?”

Oikawa shouts another curse at his friend and slaps the other’s thighs because it was the nearest surface to hit that would cause a nice sting, but Hanamaki still gets to guffaw harder despite the pain.

“Heyyy, what’s the fun about?” A new voice interrupts, making the two of them look at the rooftop’s entrance and see their two other friends arrive. They were late technically, but also, a little early if it was about disrupting Oikawa and Hanamaki gossiping.

“Nothing.” Oikawa says, silently scolding Hanamaki who is still having a happy fit by himself with a sharp look.

Matsukawa and Iwaizumi come close to the two of them; Iwaizumi with the snacks they ordered in his strong arms, and Matsukawa with a pack of something familiar in his lanky hands.

“Oi, Mattsun, where’d you get that?” Oikawa asks, inspecting Matsukawa as if he was a suspect of thievery.

“Mm, this?” Matsukawa looks at it unbothered, “Yeah, saw it on your desk when we passed by your room and decided to take it along. Assumed you might want to share it with us.”

He makes it sound like Oikawa does not have a choice but to share it.

“You say it so plainly like it’s not alarming that you just take my things without permission.” Oikawa tries to guilt him, but of course, he only gets a shrug as an answer.

Earlier in class, Oikawa got reminded of his unexplainable behavior last night when he saw this pack of slightly transparent colorful gummy worms inside his bag. He can’t remember putting it back inside so Matsukawa was probably right that it was on his desk. Better to share it with friends who don’t ask for permission than let it go to waste. With a sigh, he reaches for the pack to take a piece of gummy worm. He stares at it for a while, and Hanamaki takes that chance to grab the pack away from him.

_ Gross _ . He immediately thinks. It does look a little too realistic even when in different colors.

Scared to put it inside his mouth, Oikawa gulps his cowardice and eats it whole, the creases on the candy’s surface dragging on Oikawa’s tongue and slipperily gliding around the insides of his cheeks. He finds that he  _ absolutely  _ fucking hates it.

He watches Hanamaki and Matsukawa eat a piece with enjoyment on their faces, even agreeing that the texture is actually interestingly fun inside the mouth.

Oikawa inwardly groans.

_ A psychopath and a sociopath _ . Not that he genuinely knows the difference of the two though.

—

Hanamaki yawns behind him as they walk on the street market, “It’s nice that we don’t have to train anymore but it’s also kind of lonely. I’m not used to going home from school with the sun up anymore.”

“That’s an exaggeration, Makki, and if you’re bored then focus on uni prep.” Oikawa teases and he sees Hanamaki roll his eyes. None of his friends are excited for university prep. Oikawa on the other hand... is preparing for something else, though none of his teammates know it yet.

“Well, since we’re all here anyway, can we decide what we are going to eat?” Iwaizumi, who was beside him, asks the other two behind.

Matsukawa raises his shoulders as his only response, and Hanamaki recommends places while Iwaizumi contemplates where the four of them should go like a responsible father with three kids.

He lets them have a discussion, not interested in participating in a tiring exchange of words and ideas yet no unity to be reached. Oikawa looks away from them, and he really didn’t want to, but the candy store on the other side of the street caught his eye. Maybe because he meant to suggest milk bread which was right beside it to his friends even if he knew they would just turn him down, but now he’s looking at it.

He tries to peek inside, not sure what it is he’s searching for, but he sees a little boy trying to reach for something on the top part of the shelf. The owner was busy with two other kids, he deduces, so without fully letting the impulse to pass through his brain’s deciding function, he had already crossed the street and got inside the store. Nobody looks at him like he doesn’t belong there unlike how he thinks they should, so he just lets his impulsive behavior act on its own and helps the kid by giving him the candy he’s trying so hard to reach.

Shockingly. It was peppermint flavored.

He blinks at what he’s doing, handing a kid a peppermint flavored lollipop. He thinks it’s a little too early for Christmas flavors, and also thought kids only force themselves to eat that flavor if there’s nothing else available, but the kid shows him a smile with a set of small teeth with gaps, then thanks him with the sweetest voice. It worries him because he might have been an accomplice of the kid to lose the teeth that are not called baby teeth anymore as well, but also touched because his nephew, Takeru, never acts that adorable towards him. It has been a crisis of his, but he knew the problem was within that child, not within him. He knows for sure that kids don’t hate him! All the other kids in the volleyball camp he coaches from time to time together with his hell sent nephew likes him.

“Oh? Ain’t it Oikawa-kun? Are you here to buy again?”

An old man’s voice says in a sing-song manner, and startled, Oikawa whips his head to face the man. He gives a small bow as a greeting, “Ah, hello, and no. I— uh, yes.”

The other kids noisily went to the counter to pay, demanding attention, and he hears the owner’s hearty laugh, telling them to be patient. He looks back at Oikawa, gesturing for him to continue what it is he’s doing, then makes his way back behind the counter.

Oikawa walks to the other shelf and grabs some packs of gummy bears because, yes, as mentioned before, those kinds of sour jellies he actually enjoys. After that, he lines up along the three kids buying stuff that are bad for their teeth and throats.

Oikawa notices then that they were playmates since they waited for each other to finish each of their transactions, and immediately after the boy he helped got to pay, the kids run out of the store to eat what they have bought and to continue playing. It makes Oikawa feel soft inside, their good vibes influencing him, so much that the owner had to mention the look on his face.

“You look like you’re fond of kids?” He says but finishes it like it was an inquiry while he scans what Oikawa bought.

“Mm, quite, I guess? They remind me of what youth was like before it went crashing down.” Oikawa jestingly replies along with a doleful laugh and a wistful smile.

“You talk about youth as if you’re not in it anymore.” The owner shakes his head, and it makes Oikawa realize that he’s right. Just how old is he? Oikawa still is in his youthful days, especially when compared to the man he’s speaking to.

He felt dumb; he probably sounded like a wanna-be edgy teenanger.

“Most childhoods are fun and all, but youth is about finding yourself, whether or not the path to see who you are is fun or not.” The old man, just like he probably does to Futakuchi, shares his wisdom to Oikawa, and it felt comforting.

He makes the payment and smiles thankfully, “I’ll keep that in mind, jiichan.”

He turns to leave after jiichan smiles at him like he would to a grandson, but then instead of seeing the door, he meets the three annoyed stares of his friends, and he gets frozen on the spot.

They don’t even have to say it, Oikawa can feel the irritation they have for him because he disappeared without saying anything. Nervously, he tries to smile like nothing is wrong, thinking quickly on his feet when he said, “I bought you guys gummy bears?”

He was expecting his friends to tackle him and shout at him, but they got distracted by a laugh that sounds a little like what Santa Claus should sound like behind Oikawa. As he already thought of before, Christmas is  _ still  _ a little too soon to start.

“Are they part of your team, Oikawa-kun?”

Being called and asked, he turns back to meet the owner’s eyes again, then he bows to politely introduce his friends that are wearing intimidating looks pointed towards him and only him. As he said their names (or nicknames, rather), they showed a quick polite smile which a young person should show to an elder, but as soon as it was done they were back to sending daggers towards Oikawa’s way using just their gazes.

“ _ Iwa-chan. _ ” Jiichan unexpectedly repeats after Oikawa, and they all focus on the old man again, seeing that he had pointed at Iwaizumi curiously, “Iwaizumi-kun, is it? If my memory still serves me right at this time and age.”

Iwaizumi blinks continuously after that, confused and disoriented that an old stranger knows what his name is. Oikawa decided to answer for him, “Yes, he is though.”

“Let’s see, he described you well as a handsome and fit boy.” Jiichan said, a hand under his chin like he’s thinking about something with sense, but from what he said, Oikawa’s not sure if there  _ is _ sense in whatever it is. Obviously, Iwaizumi wouldn’t get it more than he does, and he even misinterpreted it.

Iwaizumi shot a look at him, non-verbally demanding for Oikawa to spit out whatever crap it was that he told the shop owner, but Iwaizumi didn’t know it was Futakuchi who said those. Not him. He’s not a person with a loose mouth (most of the time).

“He said you broke their triple block through the newbie setter with just sheer power, eh? He was depressed at the time he told me but he also made you sound very cool. He must admire you.” Jiichan rambles on and Oikawa watches as Iwaizumi realizes that the man‘s source wasn’t Oikawa but somebody else.

Oikawa feels relieved that he didn’t have to save his own ass from something that was not his fault, but also a little jealous that Futakuchi talks about his other teammates to the wise old man as well, especially when jiichan emphasized that he “must admire” Iwaizumi. Oikawa gets it, honestly. Iwaizumi’s a good looking, cool ace—powerful and strong. Why wouldn’t anyone be amazed by his best friend? Oikawa too, admires Iwaizumi. Futakuchi  _ ain’t _ special.

“Excuse me, sir, but may I ask who? Uh... someone from Dateko?” Iwaizumi raps out after taking the information in.

Jiichan fondly chuckles, sounding like he’s talking about his grandkid, “Yes, it was Dateko’s team captain. He’s been a loyal customer of mine.”

“Ah.” Iwaizumi utters, and nothing else. Oikawa’s glad he’s not the only one who experienced being told about a conversation with themselves as the topic. It feels flattering, but also a little uncomfortable because maybe those details should have just been kept unknown.

“Oikawa-kun here is friends with Ji-ch—“

“Well, I’m starving! Jiichan, thank you!” Oikawa interrupts as soon as he realizes what it is that the old man was about to disclose, then he forcefully pushes his three friends out of the store while politely smiling and waving a goodbye to a confused old man.

It‘s not like he wants to keep it a secret that he is now acquaintances with the Dateko team captain. Maybe he’s just shy that the owner has said ‘friends’, because  _ as if _ the two of them are  _ friends _ .

As the glass door closes, he sensed that his friends were about to say or ask something about what had just happened, so he shows them the packs of gummy bears and tells them to eat. Just like kids, his plan worked out fine enough since his friends sometimes have short attention spans, especially when the talk is about him.

Oikawa then asks where they have decided to eat, and as expected, they reached no definite conclusion, so Oikawa just randomly chose a place he knew that serves good food and led his indecisive friends in.

They were peacefully chatting about trivial things, even talked about Dateko and the team captain for a bit though Oikawa did not contribute as much to the conversation about that youngster.

Their beef udon comes quickly, and the three immediately taste the udon’s clean soup, the comforting warmth coating their taste buds. Oikawa can feel his saliva pooling as he watches the others eat, so he goes ahead and tastes it too.

He feels his stress and doubts slightly get melted away by the aroma and taste of the dish. Hot noodles are such a great comfort food too. And yes, comfort food, not breakdown food, because you can’t have noodles and  _ still  _ be pessimistic.

After the taste test, he tapped in some  _ shichimi _ , or seven-flavor chilli pepper, more than the average person can handle, and he notices his friends’ faces turn into that of being dispirited.

“It’s arguably the weirdest fact that Oikawa has a high tolerance against spiciness. Does the milk in the bread he eats protect the outer layer of his tongue?” Matsukawa says, starting their routine complaint because they always mention him dominating the chilli tolerance ranking whenever they all eat something spicy.

For reference, their spiciness tolerance ranking is: Oikawa, first. Hanamaki, second. Matsukawa, third. Iwaizumi, last.

Hanamaki sighed depressingly, “That’s not logical, Matsu. Let’s admit defeat for this one, he only gets more tolerant to it every time I challenge him.”

“Yeah. Just remember he can’t drink coffee.” Iwaizumi grumbled before slurping his soup loudly with a frown, but the taste wins his facial expression over and the scowl turns into glee, physically demonstrating the power of a hot bowl of noodles.

But at the mention of coffee, a bitter taste comes from the back of Oikawa’s throat, the memory of milk coffee on his tongue from this earlier morning still clear and it is disgusting.

For their coffee ranking reference: Iwaizumi—black coffee. Matsukawa—black coffee with sugar. Hanamaki—any espresso drink except americano. Oikawa—no coffee.

Oikawa is about to stuff his mouth with noodles when he smells something; it was a scent that didn’t mean anything before, but now it made him feel a little nostalgic, like he’s missing somebody. So he swiftly turns his head towards it, but sees nothing or no one that he can connect to the scent.

He tilts his head in wonder.

It was sour gummies that he smelled. Was there really sour gummies in the vicinity or was he just imagining it? Excluding the option that he’s crazy, it could have been from the remaining opened pack of gummy bears inside his bag. It sounds wrong even to Oikawa because such subtle scent can’t possibly penetrate through his bag’s thick layers, but it is more probable than anything else now.

But then why does it feel like he’s saddened that he did not see what he expected to see when he turned his head towards that sweet, tangy smell? It would seem that his brain had already associated it with a certain someone, but what he feels about it is uncertain for now.

_ Hmm _ . He thinks in a daze.

“Oikawa,  _ eat _ your fucking noodles.”

—

Matsukawa and Hanamaki, having to go a different way to get home, separated from them in front of the udon stall. That left just him and Iwaizumi, as always. They’ve fallen back into the same pattern, same routine. Like they always do, just them two.

They pass by the milk bread store and the candy store, which makes Oikawa glance that way, his eyes passing through jiichan’s customers.

“Don’t tell me you want milk bread?” Iwaizumi assumes from his actions, and for once in a blue moon, he was wrong.

“I always do, Iwa-chan, but I’m already full, so no.” Oikawa answers, putting his hands into his pant pockets. Iwaizumi shrugs and moves on to talking about something else. Oikawa can hear him speaking, but his mind is preoccupied with something else.

_ Forgot about the fact that he‘s banned from there for three days since Tuesday _ .

“Oi, are you even listening?”

Oikawa contemplates, but he’s  _ painfully _ honest sometimes so he answers, “No.”

That gets him a smack.

—

It’s finally the weekend. Oikawa doesn’t have to get up for volleyball training at Seijoh anymore, and yet his body still wakes up at 6am, unable to will himself back to sleep.

Oikawa is a morning person, his body clock is used to being active and being fit. It’s a disadvantage at times when he wants to just chill and be laid back because his body screams at him to move and do something, so he just obeys its demands. He gets out of the bed, drags his sleepy feet towards the shower to brush his teeth and wash his face.

He dresses himself for his morning jog, and when he goes down the stairs, he sees his mom preparing a non-traditional Japanese breakfast, or simply, a western style breakfast. The appetizing smell of fried bacon and pancakes enters his system, awakening it from within as his blood flows with excitement. Needless to say, Oikawa is a slave for bacon and pancakes.

He greets his mom good morning and she greets back with a sweet smile, after which she asks if Oikawa’s going for a jog and if he can change his route again so he can buy bread. The bakery is only a bus stop away, and he jogs that distance to buy bread from time to time so of course he agrees. His mom then gives him more than enough money for the bread and the commute back home, telling him to have a safe run and to buy himself a hydrating drink.

He says goodbye as he goes out the front door, and when he gets out of the gate, he puts his earphones in to hit shuffle on his playlist solely for running. A Spyair song comes on, and it pumps him up well while he stretches until the next chorus before jogging at an easy pace, listening to a song about a heart of a samurai, or how some like it hot (not quite exactly, but the title of the song is).

As he picks up the pace, the residual chill of the night grazes his face and the lower half of his legs. His ears feel a little cold so he pulls the hood of his teal colored windbreaker over his head, and he regrets that he didn’t wear sweatpants or inner tights instead of just shorts.

When the next song comes on, he begins to accelerate for him to break a little sweat. The gentle warmth of the rising sun falling upon his skin to fight against the coolness of the air, and it makes him feel more alive. It might be because of the vitamin D, but if this was any later than 8am, it would just be ultraviolet rays harming his skin and retinas.

The neighborhood was still quiet, but it has a buzz that’s signaling it’s already awake. The amicable vibe of the town was grounding him, making him feel that it is right where he belongs, that it is his home.

Oikawa bites the inside of his lower lip, and the bounce of his step made him tear through the first layer of the skin. He tasted a little bit of iron, and it felt like the coppery taste of yearning for something even before it is gone.

He gazes at the scenery he passes by with a longing look, embedding the pictures of his town deep into memory while he still had the time to. He adorns his eyes towards the flower beds on the side of the road, the neutral colored houses, the park where he spent most of his childhood walking with his mom, the playground where he and Iwaizumi had played a lot, and some humble places where bits and pieces of his soul are connected in the strangest yet most natural ways.

Then a turn finally leads him to the main road, so he lets his mind rest, letting it wander into anything but deep, just simply running towards his destination with music in his ears.

After some more songs, he hears the horn of a bus along with the riff of a guitar, and he realizes that he’s finally arrived at the bus stop. He crosses the street and takes a left turn, headed towards the market. Civilians drove by him; some on their cars, some on their motorbikes, some on their bicycles, and then a particular cyclist caught his attention.

On a mama-chan—a standard bike with a basket in front and a seat for kids at the back, is a teen wearing a Dateko volleyball tracksuit jacket and shorts. It would appear he’s quite on a rush with how he turns the pedals of his bike, and Oikawa thinks of a comical reason as to why he would.

_ The ban is lifted today, isn’t it _ ?

Oikawa smiles as he continues to run at his own pace, passing by some of the market’s shops that have already opened for business while some of them, just about to as the owners and caretakers run up the rolling gates.

With curious eyes, he watches the boy slow his velocity and then make a gentle halt right in front of the candy store. With his back still facing Oikawa, he climbs down his bike and puts it up on its stand near an electrical post, wrapping a lock on its wheels and the post. Then he makes a 180 degree turn, his line of sight angled towards the ground.

Oikawa swallows, and it tasted like pride, because he did say that his hair is flat and boring, but due to the wind that brushed through his hair as he rode the bike, his bangs were pushed up away from his forehead, and as if it was done by a stylist, it softly falls back down in a curve towards his temporal.

His brain spoke without his permission, so in his mind he heard himself say:

_ Pretty _ .

It isn’t anything new though. He always has thought that the boy was pretty ever since he saw him, but being able to see his face better just enforces that thought even further. His brows are relaxed, his eyes are gentle, and his cheeks are in a nice pink flush from biking. Oikawa’s been honest his whole life, and that boy is  _ pretty _ .

That pair of beautiful brown eyes captures the sunlight just right, then it meets Oikawa’s, and since he really is just captured by those features, he couldn’t will himself to look away even if he wanted to. It’s a rare sight to see that face without a scornful look or a shit eating grin.

“Ya-ho!” Oikawa cheerfully greets as he comes close enough to the other’s hearing range, taking off his earbuds, the music fading away. He smiles as he slows down to a jog, and he adds, “Good morning, Futakuchi-chan.”

He sees Futakuchi’s lips say a small oh, probably just as surprised as he was of the coincidence. Then he runs a hand through his hair to ruffle it all back down, making it fall on his face like it always does while greeting back a simple and polite  _ good morning _ .

Oikawa’s legs then transition from a jog to a walk, pouting as he says, “Aw, but you looked prettier with your hair up.”

Hearing what he said with his own ears, it makes him cringe, so he purses his lips in a tight line. If his honesty was brought to court, being able to say what he really mean is one of his good traits, but not being able to control what he says is the bad side of it, so the jury in Oikawa’s head deems it guilty of putting Oikawa in troublesome or awkward situations he can’t get out of.

“Thank you, Oikawa-san, but maybe I prefer to be ugly.” Futakuchi says while he pats down his hair to being prim and proper once more, skilled fingers combing through soft chocolate colored locks, gingerly falling down towards his eyes.

Oikawa, for once he has been able to think before he act, clamped his mouth shut with his palm to stop himself from saying out loud:

_ You’re still pretty though _ .

Oikawa pushes the thought away and brings his hand down to show a displeased scowl instead, but it goes ignored as Futakuchi passes him to get inside the candy store, the bells hanging at the top of the door entrance ringing to announce a new entry.

“Have a good day, Oikawa-san.” Futakuchi’s fading voice said before the door closes shut, and Oikawa follows the silhouette of Futakuchi waving at him from the inside of the store. Jiichan becomes alert due to the chime of the bells, and he says hello to Futakuchi first before noticing Oikawa outside the store and greets him as well. He bows back politely, then finally heads towards the bakery, stretching as he walks to cool down his body and prevent muscle cramps.

He was there because his mom asked for bread, not so he can be social with somebody. Though he would be lying if he didn’t say he was a tad bit upset that Futakuchi didn’t entertain him with a conversation for a little longer, but who is he to sulk anyway? They aren’t even friends.

Taking off his hood and wiping the sweat on his forehead, he breathes in the welcoming scent of freshly baked pastries to comfort his nerves instead. His stomach grumbles a little as he enters the shop, happily being greeted by the old lady, her son, and a few other employees as a loyal customer. He smiles back with the same level of enthusiasm, then informs them of his order—a room temperature bottled water, hot chocolate, a loaf of bread, and ultra fluffy milk bread rolls, of course.

Oikawa sits himself on the few chairs offered to the bakery’s customers because the next batch of milk bread rolls were still on the oven though it is soon to be done already.

He looks around the small but cozy shop since he hasn’t had many tranquil mornings to spend in this place because it used to just be a come and go type of shop. The front part of it is still that usual style of bakery wherein you pass by and leave with your orders steadfastly, but the place grew popular enough that they had to make space at the side for some people who wants to settle down and enjoy the warmth of a hot drink and taste of the baked goods they offer, but based on one’s preference, they also offer iced drinks. Oikawa hadn’t been able to fully experience it due to his schedule and priorities in life. “Wasting” time in a bakeshop just wasn’t an option for him before, but now he had acquired the time to do so for a short while.

His bottled water and hot choco is then delivered to his table by the son, Makoto. He opens the water bottle first and drinks half of it in one go, gaining the liquid he had just lost from sweating.

Makoto being older, basically have watched Oikawa grow, and both of them were involved in sports. Makoto is a swimmer, so then they have a commonality. They had a small talk about Oikawa’s morning run, and he was asked how he’s keeping up with his volleyball career after the spring preliminaries. Having been welcomed with open arms for years by this family, he felt comfortable enough to admit that he’s not so sure what to do anymore. Makoto, with a knowing smile, only patted his shoulder. Oikawa thinks it might have hit close to home.

When Oikawa is left alone on his table once again, he hears the voice that has left him hanging in the air earlier, “Hot choco?”

Oikawa cranes his neck towards the person who spoke with a judgemental tone against his tongue’s taste preferences. As expected, it was the brat from earlier that didn’t pay him attention for even more than a minute.

“And,  _ you _ ? Sour gummies early in the morning? Have you even eaten breakfast yet?” Oikawa eyes the pack of opaque sour gummy worms in Futakuchi’s hands, an evident disapproval on his face.

“Yes, I have eaten breakfast already, Oikawa-san. Thank you for your concern, but I have not had my coffee yet, so may I please politely ask of you to not be a twat for maybe some minutes?” Futakuchi sighs as he chews through a neon pink and blue worm, and it offends Oikawa because he should be the one asking Futakuchi to not be a bozo, but he lets him be for now. Maybe the younger would be nicer once he gets his system running on iced black coffee.

For someone appearing to be a sweet tooth, Oikawa did not expect Futakuchi to order such a bitter blend. With his competitiveness stirring up deep inside his soul, he wants to challenge Futakuchi to a contest of who can handle spice better just so he could become higher on the food pyramid again.

The unpredictable young one takes the seat across him on the same table, and Oikawa decides to start another conversation, “So, why’re you here this early? Dying to get your hands on some sour gummies to keep you alive?”

“ _ Dying _ to get my hands on some sour gummies to keep me alive. Yes. Exactly that. And also coffee.” Futakuchi soullessly echoes, staring at the coffee maker, obviously impatient for his much needed caffeine, and the whole act makes Oikawa giggle at his hot choco while he was stirring it.

He blinks and suddenly, he can feel those eyes from the coffee maker focus on him instead, and the gaze on him was rather heavy. He didn’t know why he felt it as if he was a rabbit in the headlights, but he didn’t make it show, or at least he hoped it didn’t show. In a millisecond, which felt longer to Oikawa, Futakuchi releases his encapsulating gaze on him soon after, tapping a finger on the table, still showing signs of restlessness. Oikawa then exhales the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Oikawa-san.” Futakuchi tenderly calls, and with Oikawa’s senses still tingling with something he couldn’t pinpoint, he feels a chill run up his spine. Maybe it’s his fight or flight instinct?

“Mmm... don’t know if it’s because your hair’s swept back by the wind from your morning run, but, you look good right now. As if you’re... er, I don’t know. Carefree, I guess, is the term?” Futakuchi stutters out, sounding as if he wasn’t sure if he was saying the right words in the right way.

Oikawa, despite wanting to bolt, finds it endearing.

Just a little bit.

“So you mean I haven’t looked good all my life because this is the only time I‘m consciously being carefree.” Oikawa provokingly jests when he recovers, a smile on his face as he challenges Futakuchi on another staring competition because he sadly lost the first one.

Futakuchi instantaneously blinks at him even if he was aware of the challenge, paying absolutely zero fucks to the ‘game’ Oikawa started as he said, “If that’s how you want to interpret it, then yes.”

Oikawa, acting hurt, gasps in a disheartened way. Then he swiftly switches his mood, speaking with an authoritative tone, “Futakuchi-chan, let me teach you. That was the cue for you to tell me I’ve  _ always _ looked good.”

“I ain’t going to lie for you, Oikawa- _ san _ .” Futakuchi says, his mouth twitching in a disturbed way.

“Ah! There you go again, disrespecting me!” Oikawa points a finger at him, a pout on his lips trying to look cute.

_ Unexpectedly _ , Futakuchi pushes Oikawa’s finger back into his fist with his own palm, surprising Oikawa with the physical contact. Then he tenderly wraps his slender fingers around Oikawa’s closed fist, eyes staring straight into Oikawa’s with a sincerely serious look. He flutters his long, brown eyelashes, his lips in a sweet curve, saying in an ironic loving voice, “ _ As I should,  _ Oikawa-san.”

Oikawa would not want to admit it, but he is too mistified to even breathe. Then he reminds himself that pointing at somebody is  _ rude _ , and he would never do it again. Futakuchi might have made it look playful, but Oikawa thinks he got offended by it.

“Tooru-kun! Here’s your order! And, uh, iced black coffee for Futakuchi-kun?”

“Here!” Futakuchi answers, his warm hand disconnecting from Oikawa’s to raise it in order to catch the old lady’s attention, also giving Oikawa’s rib cage a  _ goddamn _ rest.

Oikawa tries to act normal as he smiles at the lady when their eyes meet as she tilts her head towards Futakuchi, looking like she was asking if he knew the guy.

“You brought a friend along with you today, Tooru-kun?” She asks nicely, her smile a bit too gleeful to let her down and it hinders Oikawa to deny it strongly like how he did when it was jiichan who asked if they were friends.

To his surprise, it was Futakuchi that answered as he grabbed his coffee and Oikawa’s purchase from the lady.

“Yes, we’re friends. He always talks about how good your ultra fluffy milk bread rolls were and I’ve been curious, is that really what you call them in this bakeshop?” Futakuchi says with an exaggerated innocent curiosity in his voice, sipping on his drink before turning his head to look at Oikawa and wiggle his eyebrows teasingly.

It makes the old lady giggle shyly, “It’s only Tooru-kun who calls it that before when he was really young, but the other customers slowly got influenced. You see, he was already pretty charming even as a kid.”

Futakuchi puts down the paper bag of goodies in front of Oikawa, and Oikawa keeps on getting puzzled by the younger this morning. This time, he was fondly smiling at Oikawa like he was that same little kid that started calling it ‘ultra fluffy milk bread rolls’, and he huffed softly before saying, “He  _ is _ pretty charming.”

The old lady nods, looking like she’s in total agreement and with the same fondness in her voice, she says, “Yes, yes. He is.”

“Huh? Uh. I—“ Oikawa stammers, very at a loss for words to say or retort back because all he can think of is that he’s, for sure, blushing right at this moment. If he was able to stop himself from looking like a tomato earlier, now he’s postive that he  _ fucking _ is. His ears might be even red too, and Futakuchi, no doubt, finds pleasure in flustering him to the point where he is rendered speechless. Oikawa realizes this and bites his lower lip to stop playing his part as booboo the fool, frowning at the man staring down on him.

Futakuchi then looks away from him and tips his coffee cup towards the counter as a salute, “Thank you for the coffee,  _ baachan _ .”

Oikawa, still frozen in shock in his seat, watches as Futakuchi takes a sip of his coffee again when he walks out of the shop. At the realization that Futakuchi is yet again about to leave him in the air, he fumbles to grab his belongings in order to follow the brat. He makes a quick thank you to the owners as he catches up behind Futakuchi. He gets near him as he’s already taking off his bike’s lock, the things he had in his hands earlier placed inside the bike’s front basket carefully.

Oikawa makes his presence known with an angry huff, and he confirms it has been acknowledged because he hears that familiar haughty chuckle from the other.

“So we’re friends now, you say?” Oikawa says when he finally gets the courage to speak without faltering, the remaining heat on his face dissipating.

“Only when it’s convenient.” Futakuchi says accompanied by a short laugh like what he just said is amusing for him.

“Much like any other of my friends, then.” Oikawa sulks, crossing his arms against his chest, “You’re not so original.”

“Oh, you have other friends.”

“Ya!”

Oikawa hits him on the arm as he is getting on his bike, and it looked like he didn’t expect that. Oikawa thought he crossed the line between them since they aren’t close enough for (harmful) physical contact yet so he was ready to apologize, but Futakuchi bursts into laughter instead. Oikawa joins Futakuchi’s joy without a certain reason, so he smacks him again, but a little lighter this time, and says, “Yes, I have the ability to make friends sometimes too.”

“Well,  _ dear friend of mine _ , I’m sorry to spend such limited time with you but I’m about to be late and I have a weak ass bitch to urgently train in my team, so if you may excuse me please.” Futakuchi grabs his iced americano from the front basket and takes three consecutive gulps. Oikawa feels  _ his _ own gag reflex get triggered for the guy.

“Then I‘m sorry for taking much of your time. Please, do go on your way now,  _ dear friend of mine _ .” Oikawa says in a manner like he is speaking to a royalty, his hands gestured towards the road, and his body angled slightly in a polite bow.

Futakuchi shows him an amused smirk as he pedals by Oikawa’s figure, and Oikawa bows lower, still roleplaying as if he was sending off a royalty.

Oikawa thought they would part ways like that, but he hears Futakuchi call out, which makes him lift his head to see that the other has his torso twisted just so he would be able to look back at Oikawa.

“See you around, Oikawa-san.” He says, a gleam in his eyes and a pleasant smile on his face, then he looks away to focus on the road, gaining speed as Oikawa watches his back.

There is something that made Oikawa feel glad about it. It makes his chest feel fluttery and numb at the same time _.  _ He wants to laugh, so he does.

_ Yeah. I’ll see you around _ .

—

It is an afternoon in the middle of the week, and Oikawa’s brain is about to make a quick shut down from all the English words and grammar rules that he needs to remember. The lesson wasn’t much of a torture, but he’s bored and tired of reading foreign words he didn’t understand then looking at another reference so he can put sense to it. The professor noticed this tiredness and suggested that Oikawa choose an English song, write down the lyrics on paper, then translate it to Japanese. Once he mastered one, move onto another.

Oikawa found the technique interesting, so he sits down on a chair in the library like a good student, his earphones in while a song by Peter, Bjorn and John plays. He has a notebook spread on the table, a black inked pen in his hand, scribbling the English lyrics with it.

He has listened to the song a lot of times already, knows the whistling part by heart, and though he’s heard the words over and over, he wasn’t sure what it all really is. He sings along at some parts, knows the meaning of some phrases, and understands the whole vibe of the song. It‘s a feel-good song overall, but he never memorized the meaning of it word for word.

He has just finished copying the lyrics over to his notebook when his phone vibrates, indicating that he has received a mail. He checks the time on his screen first and sees university prep must have been over. He opens the message and as expected, it was Iwaizumi commanding that they go home already.

“He‘s so grumpy. He can go home alone anyway, and yet he still waits for me. Dumbass.” Oikawa grumbles to himself, placing his phone, notebook and pen into his bag.

It’s hard to explain it; but even if they annoy each other 24/7 non-stop, they care a lot for each other and are strongly loyal to the bond they have. Oikawa, and vice versa, knows that Iwaizumi would always,  _ always _ be there to have his back or be there for him. So no matter what their schedules are, they make an effort to at least ride the bus home together.

They meet at the gate, Iwaizumi scrunching his nose as he asks why Oikawa took a long time to get out of uni prep. Oikawa nervously laughs, scratching the back of his head, saying excuses like he always does.

Then they go on their way home together, the sun setting down as the moon and stars appear. They talk like they usually do; Oikawa fools around like he always does, and Iwaizumi harshly cuts off his pesky jive like he always does. Comfortably just beside each other.

They are near the bus stop and Oikawa is in the middle of talking about a new gossip he heard when Iwaizumi’s eyes suddenly changed focus away from him. He’s going to sulk about it but Iwaizumi points at the waiting shed, a curious and surprised look on his face, “Isn’t that Dateko’s team captain?”

“Huh?” Oikawa raises a brow, and when he follows the direction Iwaizumi was pointing at, he sees a teenager wearing a sports tracksuit sitting on the bench under the waiting shed.

The new movement probably alerts the boy as he looks their way to inspect the sound of them walking, and when they make eye contact,  _ unbelievably _ , Iwaizumi speaks for first.

“Dateko?” Iwaizumi asks as if the jersey did not confirm it already, “Futakuchi, right?”

The questioned man’s eyes widen first at the sight of them before he humbly bows as a greeting, “Ah, yes, I am.”

As they got closer to the shed, Iwaizumi chuckles, “I don’t know why you did, but I heard you talked about me?”

“Oh.” Futakuchi timidly laughs, bowing his head down as if he was shy, “May I know who you heard it from?“

“The old man at the candy store.” Iwaizumi says with a smile before plopping down on the seat beside Futakuchi, his right arm resting on the railings. It didn’t look like Futakuchi minds his one meter radius being breached by Iwaizumi’s forearm as he smiled back, jesting about the ace being too friendly with him when just two weeks ago he crushed his hopes and dreams. Iwaizumi jests back that Futakuchi shouldn’t put up a mighty facade anymore because he knows Futakuchi adores him, the old man as his  _ reliable _ source.

The two of them continued to have a conversation as if Oikawa isn’t there at all, not acknowledging his presence even once. He squints at the youngest among them three, wishing that the stink in his glare penetrates through Futakuchi’s thick skin. Oikawa thinks he was successful, though just a little bit because Futakuchi only makes the quickest glance over his figure with a leer on his lips, then giving back all his attention on Iwaizumi just as fast.

Oikawa’s body limps tiredly, he didn’t have the energy to have a silent argument with the boy, nor did he want his pride to get even more hurt once he awkwardly joins in their chat as if begging for their attention. He chose to just sit beside Iwaizumi and listen to what they are talking about.

They were pretty friendly as they talked, the humor in their conversation was just the right amount of sarcasm and chaff. Their wavelengths seem to meet into a single line, making their brainwaves fit for each other.

Then Iwaizumi, having learned enough information about when, where and how Futakuchi goes home, rubs his chin and says, “I wonder why I’ve never seen you around here before.”

“Hm, not to sound depressing but you didn’t know me before so I probably didn’t matter, but now you have become aware of my face because we’ve played against each other.“ Futakuchi explains, and Iwaizumi tilts his head, a little doubtful.

“Is it really? We’ve been going through the same path for about two years now and I’ve only noticed you today.” Iwaizumi contemplates, but honestly, Oikawa had the same sentiments as Iwaizumi. He’s glad somebody had finally asked the right questions because he just never finds the right time to do so.

“I think so, Iwaizumi-san. Your duo’s pretty popular by name and face so I have already seen you both a lot in these parts of town.” Futakuchi says, and for once since they arrived, someone had acknowledged Oikawa’s existence with a relevant look.

“Duo? Oh. You mean...” Iwaizumi stiffly turns his head towards the one beside him as if he just remembered he had someone with him, “You mean this guy.”

Oikawa, seeing the chance, was going to rant about being excluded from the conversation, but a bus arrives and Iwaizumi, again, stops caring about him.

He cuts off Oikawa’s time to speak and he stands up as he states the fact that it’s their bus. Futakuchi nods at that, and then they both bid sweet farewells to each other. Oikawa, out of the picture once again.

Iwaizumi walks to the door of the bus, and Oikawa follows suit. He sees Futakuchi was still looking at Iwaizumi, so he forcibly gets into Futakuchi’s perspective—his tongue out, middle finger up.

Futakuchi’s expression of respect for Iwaizumi turns into that of impertinence posthaste, mimicking Oikawa—tongue out, middle finger up as well.

They retract the ugly faces they were making to softly snicker at how idiotic they must have looked like for each other. Once they have cooled down, Futakuchi waves him goodbye and Oikawa responds back quickly before boarding the bus, closely behind Iwaizumi.

As the two of them have been seated, Iwaizumi looks at Futakuchi through the window to give one last civil smile. He then turns away, his expression shifting to that of no humor as he earnestly says, “Found myself a new best bud.”

“Hey!”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Iwa-chan!”

—

The week was ending, and Oikawa has found his pattern starting to really differ even more from what he grew accustomed to. He continues to use excuses to patch up the probable doubts in his friend’s minds, then he lies to Iwaizumi on a phone call when asked about why they haven’t seen each other a lot recently when they’re living so near to each other. Oikawa tries humor to avoid answering, saying that Iwaizumi had miraculously turned as the clingy one in their friendship, but Iwaizumi didn’t take the bait.

With a calm and concerned voice, he just told Oikawa, “Whatever it is, I’m here for you.”

Oikawa goes silent for a while. He nods, weakly whispering, “I know.”

Then they said good bye and hung up.

Oikawa places his phone on top of his desk as he flops down, flat on his bed without using the pillows. He closes his eyes, counts 1 to 3 and again. In his thoughts, he instructs himself to breathe in then breathe out.

It feels awful. He‘s been able to keep them at bay somehow for a long while before, but since he’s preparing for something different in an unfamiliar environment, they were able to catch up to him—eating away at him, tearing him down, drowning him.

The  _ bullshit _ he wanted to leave in the past keeps on coming back, reminding him of who he was, what he’s done, what he could never be. His doubts, his insecurities, his chaos. It forbids him from taking a step forward confidently. Every day, every second, he questions himself.

_ Is it still worth it? _

—

“Oikawa-san?”

As he hears his name, he gets out of his daze and his sight slowly focuses back to normal. He gets blinded by a bike’s headlights as he smells menthol before he sees the face of who called him, and when he does, he almost doesn’t recognize the man because his nose is smelling mint and it’s not exactly the smell he associated with the person.

“I knew it was you.” He says, as he gets off his bike, the smell of mint even stronger.

“Futakuchi-chan?” Oikawa slowly says, and Futakuchi angles the headlights away from Oikawa as his brows furrow towards each other.

“You okay?” He asks, sounding a little too worried than he should be.

“Yeah?”

“What day is it?”

“November 10? Sunday?”

“What time is it?”

Oikawa looks at his digital watch, “11:10pm?”

“You know where you are?”

“The town’s park?”

“Are you awake?”

Oikawa rolls his eyes, realizing what the fast talk was for.

“Futakuchi, I’m  _ fine.  _ I don’t sleepwalk.” He says with a bit of grit, and Futakuchi looks taken aback that he didn’t use ‘-chan’ this time.

Nevertheless, he stops the tirade of questions and leans his bike on a wall, right behind the bike Oikawa brought with him.

Oikawa stays seated on the cemented floor of the park, his back against a flowerbed, and when he sees Futakuchi walk towards where he’s seated, he makes more room for a comfortable space between them. He didn’t want some company, but if he was getting one, he would at least have his needed personal space.

“Can’t sleep?” Futakuchi asks as he plops down beside him.

“Mm.” Oikawa simply responds, he’s not in the mood to sustain a long conversation. He wishes Futakuchi would notice and just leave him alone.

“Why are you out here?” Futakuchi asks, unfortunately  _ not _ noticing.

“For the peace and quiet you just disrupted.” Oikawa says, and it wasn’t on his purpose to sound that mean, but if it makes Futakuchi go away then he’d be glad he did.

“Okay, I’m sorry for that, but I meant to ask why you’ve come this far? This park is a whole lot closer to my house than yours.” Futakuchi, still ignoring the hints and signs that Oikawa is a ticking time bomb of ugly feelings, continues to talk.

“It’s the nearest park that doesn’t scream creepy vibes. I feel safe here even if the lampposts look like alien saucers, but personally, I think it’s cute.” Oikawa answers, closing his eyes, yet another clue to let Futakuchi know he’s uninterested with chatting.

“Aliens?”

“Judge all you want, but can you shut your mouth while doing it?” Oikawa crankily says, and after that he doesn’t hear anything from the other. There’s a small amount of guilt in his guts, but he finally got the silence he needed so he drowns his thoughts away with it.

He hears bristling beside him, and he assumes Futakuchi was getting up to leave. There are footsteps towards the bikes, and Oikawa is about to celebrate in his head but then he hears movement nearing him again. He doesn’t have to open his eyes to know Futakuchi is back right where he was seated. Worse, he hears a pop and a fizz of a carbonated drink.

Oikawa’s eyes snap open, his stare directed straight at Futakuchi, and he sees the younger bring a can of drink towards his lips, throw his head back, and gulp thrice. When he lowers it down to the ground, Oikawa scans what the drink was.

“Beer.” Oikawa blandly says, unimpressed.

“I won’t offer you any, you still have to bike some kilometers from here.” Futakuchi says, taking another swig of his drink.

“I _don’t_ want any. I know _for sure_ you’re not yet 20, and you dare _drink_ in _public_?” Oikawa scolds him, his voice hushed as he looks around the park to see if there were any policemen near. He also thanks god that he chose a part of the park that’s a little hidden from the main road as he sees not a single soul so he looks at Futakuchi again who was looking bored from the nagging.

“I was going to drink together with my mom at home, but she can wait.” Futakuchi says, swirling the contents of the can by a flick of his wrist.

“That’s  _ not _ the point.“

“Oikawa-san,” Futakuchi interrupts, “I’d leave once I finish this can. I know you don’t want me here but—“

Oikawa watches Futakuchi sigh and bring his hand up to his face, and it made a sound of a slight slap. He wanted to ask if he was okay, but Futakuchi sighed again, louder this time, before continuing.

“I’ll be quiet.” He says, focusing his eyes on the can of beer he’s holding instead of looking back at Oikawa, “I’ll just... be here.”

Oikawa looks away, the chill of the night settling into his bones, but he ignores it. Instead he breathes it in, a lungful of fresh air for his tired lungs. Being surrounded by plants and trees really does something to the soul, he’s glad he went out to the park tonight.

“Okay.” Oikawa says, and he sees Futakuchi relax back into his spot. It seems like he is ready to depart if Oikawa has chosen to say anything other than affirmative.

Oikawa, as always, when it’s involved with Futakuchi, does some things he didn’t have a logical reason for. He acts without thinking and makes choices that he isn’t sure why himself.

He doesn’t want to be with anyone right now because he feels suffocated by everybody else’s presence, and yet he let Futakuchi stay. He finds his company not as burdensome. Maybe it’s because he’s somebody brand-new. An anomaly in Oikawa’s routinely life. It sounds noxious, but he can take advantage of this set up. He can lay himself bare; ragged, unsightly, and finical. Then he simply can just escape and forget about it easily, especially with the way he planned out his future.

They aren’t exactly friends per se, they don’t have a relevant place in each other’s lives. They’re just like a breath of crisp country air for a person living in the city for too long to each other. It was nice to have experienced, would have loved to keep, but would have still left anyway. They would survive even after losing it and leaving it behind.

Oikawa’s tired of tying himself down with the people that surround him. He’s done expecting that they would come into his life and would be there to stay. He’s scared of building up a relationship only for it to fall down because of stupid reasons, bad decisions, and himself. He’s also sick of himself for just relying on what is constant once everything goes wrong. He’s so frightened that they would leave him, so instead he’s the one who would.

He doesn’t want anything anymore, so with this short fictitious feeling of being understood by a drifter, he lets himself be coddled. It’s like taking one last huge breath of oxygen before you submerge yourself into the unknown depths—unnecessary, but if it makes you feel better, then why not?

There was a sound of something vibrating, and it distracts Oikawa from his melancholic thoughts. He sees Futakuchi fumble for whatever the source is and accidentally shoves the can of beer away from him.

“Sorry.” Futakuchi utters, checking his phone. He mumbles to himself, and it sounded like, _stupid_ _Kamasaki-senpai_ or something as he types a reply.

“Futakuchi-chan,” Oikawa calls once he sees Futakuchi turn off his phone, “You’ve finished your beer already.”

“Huh? Ah. Oh, I didn’t notice.” Futakuchi says while looking at the beer can lying on the ground sideways. He was noticeably lying, though Oikawa doesn’t mention it.

“Well then, pick up your trash.” Oikawa suggests as he pushes himself off the ground with his legs. He dusts himself off while Futakuchi was still looking at him with a bit of confusion on his face.

“Let’s go home.” Oikawa tells him with an encouraging smile.

It’s almost 12 midnight, and he‘s had enough thinking for today. He also didn’t want to bother Futakuchi more than he already had. Even though Futakuchi did it voluntarily, he still feels his conscience at the back of his head.

The younger gets up as well after he reaches for the empty can, stretching his arms above his head and then bending his torso sideways while grunting, “Ahh, I’m so tired.”

“Sorry,” Oikawa apologizes, “and what’s shittier is that it’s Monday tomorrow. You should have just gone home instead of checking up on me, you dumbass.” Oikawa nags again as he walks towards his bike.

He turns his headlight on and looks back at Futakuchi with a strict face because he does feel older when he says these kinds of things sometimes. Futakuchi walks towards his bike, turning the headlights on as well with a blank expression.

“Yeah, fuck. I don’t know why too.” Futakuchi mutters while climbing onto his bike, mostly to himself, like it wasn’t meant to be said out loud. When he realizes he did, he just shrugs it off and rolls his eyes at Oikawa, “And also, I can just pretend I feel sick so I can stay longer on my bed tomorrow.”

“You’re not much of a model student, are you? Underage drinking and then not going to school on a whim.” Oikawa teases as he too gets on his bike.

“Mm.” Futakuchi only says, and Oikawa inspects the other from head to toe, looking at how he’s holding himself.

“You aren’t drunk, are you?” Oikawa asks, and Futakuchi looks at his judging face, his expression being appalled.

“I only had  _ one _ can of  _ beer _ .” Futakuchi debates, emphasizing his points, obviously stating the fact that he has a high alcohol tolerance with just that line.

“Okay, okay. Whatever.” Oikawa waves his hand as a sign of giving up the topic, then he gives his bike a kickstart towards the road.

Futakuchi follows behind him, their bicycles whirring as the most prominent sound between them. Oikawa makes a quick pause as they reach the entrance, looking left and right for approaching vehicles. When he sees none, he crosses the road. He looks back at Futakuchi, and sees that the younger is still at the entrance staring at him.

“Have a safe ride.” Futakuchi says with a concerned expression as Oikawa pedals away.

“You too!” Oikawa shouts back, giving one last wave of good bye before he focuses his eyes on the road, speeding his way back home.

—

It’s finally the end of Monday, a.k.a the worst day of the week, but also his only afternoon of rest on weekdays. His body is still aching from the chill of last night, especially when he chose to sit on the cemented ground instead of the bench. He also had to go there by bike, and it was stupid of him to not stretch his legs before and after the travel. He also feels so damn sleepy. His eyelids felt like it was weightlifting while he was in class, and it was the heaviest when they were talking about numbers. Once he understood the formula, he went to sleep. It was easy to do so because he was at the farthest seat away from the board.

Having no energy or motivation to move and breathe right now, he decided to cheer himself up with his favorite breakdown food—ultra fluffy milk bread rolls, of course. He couldn’t buy them last night when he was having a breakdown due to the time he craved for them, but now he finally could. He could’ve bought them in the morning but, as he had expected, he woke up late, so he didn’t have the spare time to drop by and get himself some breakdown snacks.

The smell of baked goods relieves the wrinkles on his forehead away, and he wears a smile, ready to greet his favorite old baking lady. He walks into the shop, and sees another six foot tall kid inside, discussing something with his grandma baker.

_ Blonde hair _ .

Oikawa’s head tilts unconsciously, a little curious, so he walks towards the counter silently, and peeks at the object the two were looking at. Behind the counter, in her arms was a box of cake with strawberries on top.

“As ordered, we made it in a decagon shape. It’s a strawberry cake, coated in dark chocolate, and 17 halves of fresh strawberries on top.” She says, then she closes the box and hands it over to Makoto to tie it up with a ribbon.

“We have extra strawberries from the farm, and we’re giving that to you as well for a bonus. Would you like a candle?” She asks sweetly, and in her eyes you can see that she‘s proud of the end product.

“Ah, it’s okay. We already bought one that explodes.” The kid says, and now that Oikawa’s near him, he realizes that the other is at least three inches taller than him.

As Makoto finishes up tying the ribbon, he passes it to their tall customer, and the three of them fondly smile at each other as they say their gratitudes. The blonde turns, and then he sees Oikawa.

Oikawa recognizes the uniform as Dateko’s, and when he sees the hairstyle he thought resembled a chick but with a quirky black strip in the middle, he realizes it’s the school’s volleyball team rookie setter.

“Uwah! Seijoh’s setter-san!” He energetically says, pointing a finger at Oikawa, his body crouched down as if he’s on the defensive. He glances at Oikawa’s back as if looking for somebody, “Are you perhaps with Seijoh’s ace-san?”

“Huh?” Oikawa said as he can’t quite understand the situation, “Iwa-chan?”

“Yeah. Futakuchi-senpai’s been chewing my ear off by roasting me that I’m a  _ weak ass chick _ because I have a  _ weak ass block _ .” The boy rattles on.

Oikawa thinks, _ he only calls him a ‘weak ass bitch’ behind his back, I see.  _

“Anyway! Once I see your mighty ace again, I’d tell him I won’t lose next time!” He exclaims, a little too pumped up that he forgot he’s holding something delicate in his hands.

“Kogane-kun, the cake.” Makoto reminds him with a charming smile, but they both knew there was a hidden meaning beneath it.  _ Kogane _ (?) then stands up properly and apologetically laughs as he holds onto the cake better with proper support.

“Well, it’s uhm... nice? To see you, but I have to run now. I’m going to be late for practice.” He briskly walks past Oikawa, but Oikawa’s curiosity still hasn’t been satiated.

“What’s the cake for if you’re going to practice?” Oikawa asks, turning around to face Kogane again. It’s really a bad trait of his, but he likes nosing around other people’s businesses.

“Oh, it’s a fake ‘practice’. It was our captain’s birthday yesterday so we’re going to surprise him today. We actually thought he was going to be absent but it turns out he was just  _ very _ late.” He answers with some more unnecessary details, then he politely bows and raises his hand as a gesture of good bye, “I’ll be going now!”

Oikawa follows his figure as his brain processes what he just heard.

_ It was their captain’s birthday... yesterday _ ?

As the realization sinks in, Oikawa bolts out of the bakeshop to catch Kogane, and he calls out when he sees him placing the cake on the back of his mama-chan bike, securing it in place with another rope. Thankfully, he was given the attention he needed.

“Uh, excuse me, uh...” Oikawa starts, but he’s not sure if Kogane’s name is actually Kogane so he falters.

“Koganegawa.” The younger one seems to take the hint, “I’m Koganegawa.” He introduces.

“Thank you. Uhm, my name’s Oikawa. Not Seijoh’s setter-san.” Oikawa mutters, swallowing as he awkwardly replies to the younger. He takes a breath of courage to compose himself, and then he tries to smile, “I’m very sorry to bother you when you’re in a rush, but can I ask a favor?”

“Mm, depends if it’s in my ability do that favor, Oikawa-san.” Koganegawa says, his lips in an innocent pout. He wonders just how screwed Futakuchi’s skull is to be such a shit towards this giant baby, because he can’t even think about labeling this guy a weak ass anything. He’s not a  _ weak ass bitch  _ anyway. Iwaizumi’s just a  _ strong ass bitch _ that an inexperienced giant baby chick’s block won’t be able to handle that kind of spike.

Oikawa stops his thoughts right there and reminds himself to speak immediately to not waste the baby chick’s time.

“No, it’s quite simple. Can—“ Oikawa pauses, because, one, why is he doing this? Two, what is his purpose? Three, what would he gain from it? Four, what  _ exactly _ is going on inside his messy head?

“Can?” Koganegawa chirps back, and Oikawa sucks in a breath. With time pressure, he finally builds up the determination to be able to say it.

“Can you give me Futakuchi’s mail address?” Oikawa manages to say, an unsure smile on his lips, hoping he didn’t sound out of the blue with such a request.

“Ohh. You know senpai’s name? Guess you know each other, huh?” Koganegawa nods as if it makes perfect sense for him, then he walks towards Oikawa while snatching his phone from his pockets, “What’s it for? Y’greeting him a happy birthday?”

Oikawa just laughs and agrees, grateful for the fact that at least he didn’t have to make excuses because Koganegawa already made it for him. He brings out his phone too and the younger quickly shares Futakuchi’s contact details. Then right after Oikawa receives it, somebody calls Koganegawa. He frantically answers it as he jumps onto his bike, talking to the person on the other end of the line saying he’s on the way, and that,  _ yes _ ,  _ I’m handling the cake with tender love and care _ . He pedals away from Oikawa at the bakeshop’s entrance without even a goodbye.

It makes Oikawa sigh tiredly, feeling like a storm just passed through. He silently offers a prayer Koganegawa won’t be seen by a policeman while he’s biking and talking to the phone. It would appear that the Dateko‘s iron wall team are actually a bunch of softies, but also law breakers that don't give a lot of fucks.

Oikawa looks down at the screen of his phone, Futakuchi’s contact details staring right at him. He stares back for a while, up until his phone blacks out from the automatic lock function, then he hides it in his pockets again, thinking that he’d need a milkbread before he does something he might regret again.

—

It’s the dead of the night. The people are either asleep because they have a normal sleeping pattern, or awake due to insomnia. Oikawa’s eyes are still wide awake, and his mind is going through different sentences and phrases, hunting for the right words to say without appearing that he’s giving too much of his care.

He picks up his phone, dares himself to stop pressing the backspace button for the nth time and just straightforwardly translate the thought in his head into a message form. Before he even checks it for typos, he forces his thumb to press send.

**To: Futakuchi-chan**

_ 23:11 _

You didn’t tell me it was your birthday yesterday.

Oikawa was squinting his eyes at his message, relieved he didn’t have any typographical errors. Then he jolts away from his phone when it makes a quacking sound that indicates he got a message. He calms himself down, then he clicks the notification and reads it.

__

**From: Futakuchi-chan**

_ 23:12 _

why should i? and also, who is this? how’d you get my contact details?

There was a guarded tone in the way Futakuchi replied, and Oikawa gets reminded of the fact that they aren’t really friends and they have no obligation to tell each other anything at all. He was  _ just _ thinking of it last night that they’re only friends when it’s expedient, so why in the depths of Tartarus did he want to contact this so-called ‘anomaly’ in his routinely life? He lets time go by, thinking of what to send as a message.

**To: Futakuchi-chan**

_ 23:34 _

It’s Oikawa. I got it from Koganegawa-kun at the bakery when he claimed your cake. Sorry if I got it from him without your permission.

He sends, thinking it’s a good enough reply to explain and apologize. He places his phone on his chest and rests his hand on top of it.

The digital clock on top of Oikawa’s bedside table continues to show him the seconds that pass, then it turns into a minute, and then into minutes. Oikawa thinks he won’t be hearing a quack from Futakuchi again, so he raises his phone from his chest, typing another message to Futakuchi.

**To: Futakuchi-chan**

_ 00:02 _

Anyway, belated happy birthday, Futakuchi-chan.  **|**

Anyway, belated happy birthday, Futa **|**

Anyway, belated happ

Any **|**

**|**

He turns off his phone after deleting his draft, frustrated about it even if he doesn’t know why. He gently throws the gadget towards the other end of his bed and it slides just a centimeter off from falling down the floor.

It’s already Tuesday. What’s the point in greeting him this late? It’s not like he would prepare a gift or a cake or a surprise or anything for him.

Maybe it’s because he took Futakuchi’s quality drinking time with his mom the night of his birthday, but that was Futakuchi’s choice. He didn’t need him to be there, nor did he want him to be there. He  _ chose to stay _ with Oikawa.

Oikawa takes a breath and cards a hand into his scalp, taking a firm grasp of his hair.

_ Fuck _ .

He doesn’t want to think about it.

—

Oikawa wakes up the next morning feeling terrible without fully thinking what the cause might be because it would just lead him to being disappointed with himself. It could just be caused by the fact that he didn’t have a full 8 hours of sleep, and if this hinders him from getting even taller in the future, he’d blame his godawful demons.

He woke up some minutes before his alarm, and instead of trying to go back to sleep and getting those futile minutes more of precious rest like he usually would, he lifts his head up and crawls on the other end of the bed to reach for his phone. He clicks a button to open it.

_ No new messages _ .

As he had already presupposed.

Oikawa leans back on his headboard as he drops his phone to his sheets again, rubbing the grime off of his eyes while groaning. He then drops his arms beside his thighs and stays in that position for a while, staring at the ceiling, internalizing without really internalizing, and then in some minutes, his alarm blasts off.

—

“So, why’d you look like shit?” Hanamaki asks him over lunch, the other two of their friend group busy cramming for a test or copying an assignment for a subject after the break.

“Because I’m  _ feeling _ like shit.” Oikawa replies as he takes a slurp of his soup.

“Is something up? Iwaizumi’s been expressing his concerns loudly too, by the way. Thought you’d like to know.” Hanamaki lightly says, also slurping his soup, hoping the laid-back attitude would help to not make it seem like he’s prying into Oikawa’s privacy.

Oikawa stuffs his mouth with rice, then he chews longer than he should. When his mouth was nearly empty, he sniffs casually as he says, “I’m sorry. I’ll tell you guys someday.”

He sees Hanamaki turn his head to look at him in the periphery of his visual field, then he sees the movement of a nod, “Okay. But seriously though, is  _ this _ your way of flirting? It’s either being there beside him as his little  _ nincompoop _ , or being a ghost that barely shows up.”

“As his  _ what _ ?” Oikawa squawks, finding the English word  _ nincompoop  _ adorable but from the context clues and tone of speaking, he knew it wasn’t used to compliment him.

“As his blockhead, dunderhead, knucklehead, chowderhead, milk bread loving schmuck, I said.” Hanamaki raps out in one breathing and even if it was all adjectives to insult his being, it makes Oikawa giggle.

“I forgot to mention you’re his childhood friend too.” Hanamaki adds after an intake of air, “Which brings me back to my point.”

“I’m sorry, you were trying to make a point?”

“Hush, bitch. I’m just worried about what you’re doing with your relationships. You have a tendency to carry the bullshit by yourself. Not even Iwaizumi can talk you out of it most of the time unless he punches you.” Hanamaki seethes, eating a piece of pork and rice, then he chews for a bit before speaking again, “And yeah, I know you need your space but, please, don’t isolate yourself too much? We kinda miss poking fun of you.”

Oikawa, putting his chopsticks down on top of his bowl, sheds off all mirth as he faces his pink haired friend.

“Makki, how were you able to differentiate that the love you feel is romantic instead of simply the love you have for him as a friend?” Oikawa seriously asks, and Hanamaki’s jaw drops open.

“ _ Bro _ , I did want you to open up, okay? But in this place at this time?” He starts with a normal volume, then he tones it down to a whisper near Oikawa’s ear, chiding a little, “Do you want everyone to hear about our issues on our homosexuality? The both of us aren't out to the general public yet.”

“You started the gay shit—“

“Oikawa, I know what you’re doing. You’re being rebellious.” Hanamaki says with a sharp stare.

“Yeah, so? Can I eat my food in quietude now?” Oikawa tauntingly says, and Hanamaki backs off without a fight.

“Yes!” Hanamaki says, gesturing at Oikawa’s platter with both hands like he’s presenting something important, “Please do! We can go haywire with that shit later when it’s just us two.”

“Well, try practicing being silent for now because between us two, you’re the loud one.” Oikawa says harshly, and Hanamaki pokes a finger right under his ribcage to tickle slash hurt him, and he yelps.

“Talking to you is like encountering whitewalkers or titans as if they’re roaming outside the walls you’ve built around your glass heart.” Hanamaki tries to say insultingly, but it only gratifies Oikawa.

“That sounds cool, but that’s precisely  _ why _ I have them guard it.” Oikawa winks at Hanamaki, and he hears a disgusted moan as a product. He annoys him even more with a delighted giggle, “So stop trying to gets past them, because you can’t.”

“Willing to bet on it? I’d already befriended your flat ass so what’s there I can’t fucking do?” Hanamaki says, confidence in his smirk.

“Wait, I don’t have a flat ass!” Oikawa scowls, his face looking scandalized.

“Yes, you do. Now  _ shut _ up. You wanted to eat right? Then  _ get to it _ .” Hanamaki says, his head titling towards their food to emphasize. He shakes his head after, taking a sip of his bottled tea drink.

Oikawa is still feeling repulsed, but he  _ is _ hungry so he brings a piece of meat to his mouth, then he revolts with a mutter, “I  _ don’t _ have a flat ass.”

Hanamaki, who was about to drink his soup, drops his spoon back into the bowl to bring his palm into his face, “Big sigh.”

Oikawa chews the tender meat in his mouth, blinking as he tries to make sense of what he just heard.

“Makki, did you just  _ verbally _ say ‘big sigh’?”

—

Instead of going to uni prep, Hanamaki vamoosed along with Oikawa to a cafe not frequented by the members of their generation. There was a secluded part of it wherein they got the privacy they wanted in order to talk about a concept which is still so hard to understand or accept by others and even by themselves.

Hanamaki’s a good listener, and he knew how to make Oikawa comfortable with the way he sensitively gave a trigger to some things Oikawa wanted to speak about, that he found himself cracking easily after a few sips of milkshake (Oikawa’s) and milktea (Hanamaki’s).

He ranted about his doubts on his feelings. He wonders if his emotions for Iwaizumi were real or if it‘s merely a made up illusion of the time they spent together. He’s not even sure what his sexuality is yet, and Hanamaki guided him with the questions which gave him clues as to what he would be comfortable to identify as. After he acquires new knowledge through thorough explanations, Oikawa concludes that he might be bisexual, and Hanamaki slips in a joke that he is bisexual with a preference for Iwaizumi’s arms. Oikawa’s face warps at the statement, and Hanamaki tells him that he watches Iwaizumi spike so intently like he’s the only ace in the world, then next would be Ushijima, but that’s due to loathing instead of positive adoration.

Hanamaki always had jestingly labelled some parts of Oikawa’s friendship with Iwaizumi as a little gay inside his head, but now that Oikawa’s out, he realizes it is actually gay. It makes Oikawa wonder if he was too obvious, and Hanamaki laughs before confirming that it would be obvious through the eyes of another homosexual.

Oikawa then learns that Hanamaki is straight up gay, and had always been. He’d struggled growing up with it, and it’s his first time finding a friend that is going through the same plight as his. He then reassured Oikawa that he had already survived most of what Oikawa is about to go through and told him to not be afraid to ask him for anything whenever he’s doubtful of his situation. So Oikawa starts with some questions.

First thing he asked was the one he didn’t get an answer for in the school’s canteen: how did Hanamaki know that his love for Matsukawa turned into a romantic one compared to the love for a friend?

Hanamaki admitted that he won’t be able to explain it well, but probably like any other kind of love, it just happens. He can’t remember how exactly, but one day, when he was looking at Matsukawa, there was a feeling of numbing in his guts. When he talks, his hearing is naturally attracted to what his voice says. He says that there’s suddenly a spark of feeling something different than how it normally feels like. Then he asks Oikawa how he feels about Iwaizumi, and if he went through it the same way.

Oikawa tried his best to put it into words, but he’s never good with words. He couldn’t justify it enough, but he said that simply being beside Iwaizumi feels like he perfectly belongs there, and yet there’s also a feeling of a deep ache growing inside his lungs which makes it hard to breathe the longer he’s with him.

Hanamaki takes an intense breath of air after Oikawa spoke, and he smiles foolishly at Oikawa, asking if he’s okay or if pining egregiously since childhood has led Oikawa to be the ass that he is for today. Oikawa wanted to retaliate, but Hanamaki hushes him down, saying that Oikawa‘s possibly terrified of the future wherein he might lose his place beside Iwaizumi, that what he felt was perfect could be ruined with a single wrong move. Oikawa timidly agrees, hearing the worries he stacked at the back of his mind out loud from a mouth of another person, then he adds on more of his sentiments.

He’d already thought of it countless of times, that maybe he only got too comfortable with Iwaizumi as someone he can always come back to whenever he needs somebody to lean on. Maybe it was the convenience of being able to trust and not being let down that Iwaizumi would always be there to catch him when he trips. He might think he loves Iwaizumi, only because Iwaizumi’s an easy person to fall in love with. This thinking led him to believe that he’s taking advantage of his best friend, and once Iwaizumi gets to know about it, that would be the end of them.

Hanamaki clicks his tongue and makes a sound of distress, cursing that falling in love with your possibly straight best friend is so  _ fucking _ hard and complicated, he wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy.

Then he looks at Oikawa, meeting those lost, searching eyes with grounding ones, and he tells him that yes, those might be true, but what’s wrong with that anyway? Should there be a valid reason to fall in love with somebody? Is there a right and wrong way to fall in love? And there is no single way of loving. Not because his love for Iwaizumi didn’t run like in romance films doesn’t mean his love isn’t genuine. The society and entertainment industry had unnecessarily romanticized love a bit too much that it couldn’t capture all the aspects of it. His affection for Iwaizumi is still love. It’s just... an unconventional kind of love.

_ Unconventional _ . Oikawa melancholically chuckles when he heard Hanamaki describe it that way, but he thinks it suited it perfectly.

Then it was Oikawa’s turn to break Hanamaki, asking how he’s been able to bear still being so close with Matsukawa, and Hanamaki woefully grimaces, an unfiltered look of aching painted across his face. He says he doesn’t know how as well, maybe it’s just the power of love. Said he’s going to hold on no matter how long, as far as he can, if it means not losing someone that important to him, then he raises his brows at Oikawa, questioning him that isn’t he the same though? Then they sneer at their own pathetic selves stuck in the harsh bullshit of romance, strengthening this bond with their struggles of being in love with their long time friend.

They finish their drinks in a lighter tone, chatting about something on the cheerful side for the latter part of their date. They hugged when they said good bye, not minding anybody who could have seen them and judged them as two sentimental highschool boys, bro hugging each other because they are both gay.

As Oikawa waits for Iwaizumi at the bench of the bus stop, he replays Hanamaki’s quick questions again.

_ Would you want to be in a relationship with him? _

No.

_ Would you ever let him know? _

No.

_ But you love him? _

“Oikawa.” He hears, and he looks up to see his best friend, looking down on him with a sorry look, “Did you wait too long?”

“Hm? No. I almost just got here.” Oikawa says, showing a bright smile that could take away the rueful frown on Iwaizumi’s worried face.

“Okay. I’m still sorry though.” Iwaizumi huffs, sniffling due to the weather turning cold as the day shifts to the night. He sits right next to Oikawa, a tad closer than it should’ve been, and it makes Oikawa smile.

_ Do I love him? _

Oikawa watches Iwaizumi close his eyes, his exhale turning into a condensation as he huffs, scrunching his cold pink nose.

_ Mm. I think I can finally admit that to myself. _

—

It was a fairly busy Saturday morning as he went to his trusted optometrist for his regular eye checkup, but also because he lost one of his contact lenses once again. The optometrist suggested for him to use visibility tints so that Oikawa wouldn’t lose it as much because he would be able to see it better, but he’s stubborn, saying he won’t lose the next one again. The optometrist subtly giggles, saying Oikawa’s hardheaded, but it’s through his clumsiness that they get paid so they carry on. He easily gets to leave the eye clinic with a new pair of contact lenses since he’s a myope without astigmatism or any other complications so there would always be a stock of it. He can lose his lenses anytime as long as he can pay for it.

He exits the building and heads towards the bus stop to go home but after some meters of walking, he suddenly hesitates. It’s another bonus Saturday wherein he has no schedule or anything to work about. He should enjoy the freetime instead of just moping around his room. Though he can come over to Iwaizumi's house as he always does when he’s bored, but Oikawa thinks he should rather do something else that he likes which is not related to volleyball or his future than the constant thing he’d always done.

The thing is... he‘s not sure he has other hobbies.

Oikawa stops walking and positions himself to the side so he won’t block the sidewalk to think about what he could do, going deep in his thoughts. He doesn’t know yet, but very lucky for him, he catches somebody’s attention.

“Oikawa Tooru?”

He looks up at the doubtful voice and shows his face to let them know it really is him, because is there anybody else as beautiful as him with hair as grand as his? He thought it was an Aoba Johsai volleyball team supporter so he was smiling welcomingly, but when he meets the eyes of the inquirer, he chokes.

“Oh?” He clears his throat, “Futakuchi-chan.” Oikawa‘s smile falters while he coughs, “Fancy meeting you here.”

_ What a fucking coincidence _ . Oikawa internally thinks.

“Oh. It really is Oikawa Tooru.  _ What a fucking coincidence _ .” Futakuchi says with a short snicker, putting one hand into the pocket of his black fitted jeans.

Oikawa squints suspiciously at the younger, guessing if he’s a psychic that can hear Oikawa’s mind. Then he eyes him and checks out his look — black shirt, black belt with a silver buckle, black jeans, black sneakers, and a small black handbag the size of a wide notebook for the barest necessities. He took plain monochrome into a whole new level. It’s like he’s going to a funeral or cosplaying a black hole.

“Is there really a need to say my whole name?” Oikawa asks with an eye roll, looking away because he somehow finds this black hole cosplayer  _ sort of _ handsome in casual clothes.

“Well, I had to make sure it was you. It’s not everyday that I see you look like a respectable nerd.” Futakuchi says, his eyes scanning Oikawa from head to toe and back up to emphasize his point.

Oikawa pouts at the comment on his fashion. He was wearing basic colors as well with a white shirt tucked into his black slacks and a black overcoat with the length covering him up to four inches above his knees and white low cut sneakers. Nothing about it screams ‘nerd’, but then Oikawa remembers he’s wearing his metal framed glasses today, and the word used to describe him might have been because of it.

“Well, it’s not everyday you see a respectable, _hot_ nerd, but today you did. You don’t have to say thanks.” Oikawa muses, wiggling his eyebrows like an old school sexy action star.

Futakuchi chuckles, looking away from those wiggly brows, raising his shoulders as if he’s defeated, “I guess.”

“Ooh,” Oikawa pauses, “So you do admit I’m hot.”

“If it helps you sleep at night, Oikawa-san.” Futakuchi says with a healthy amount of teasing while sniggering. Then he raises his hand and points towards the road with a thumb, “So which direction were you going?”

“Mmm.” Oikawa ponders, and he sighs, honesty upon his lips as always, “Nowhere yet.”

Futakuchi’s brow raises, and he huffs as if he couldn’t understand Oikawa, lowering his hand. Then with an amused smile, he tilts his head towards the direction he pointed at with his thumb and says, “Then do you mind accompanying me while we walk and talk?”

Oikawa pouts while thinking about it, then he shakes his head with an easy smile and falls in step together with the younger.

—

Oikawa learns that Futakuchi was there to buy new volleyball shoes as his mom’s birthday gift, but he hasn’t bought one yet. Oikawa becomes awkward at the mention of Futakuchi’s birthday, but the younger immediately soothes Oikawa's nerves by saying thanks for his interest in the day he was birthed and that he saved Oikawa’s contact as “milk bread loving doofus”.

He thinks Futakuchi got mad at Koganegawa for giving away his personal details without his permission and that he scolded the first year setter, so he voices this concern out. Futakuchi informs him that he didn't mind and that he never scolded the  _ giant baby _ . Oikawa says he had better not because Koganegawa is only a  _ baby chick but 6 feet tall _ so Futakuchi shouldn’t treat the guy too harshly.

Futakuchi waves the topic away with a swerve of his hand and he directs their conversation towards Oikawa, asking why he’s also at the town center then he says he visited his optometrist at the mall. There used to be a clinic closer to their home but they got better appliances in their mall branch so Oikawa is suggested to do his visits there instead.

“So you have bad eyesight?” Futakuchi asks as they enter a paid parking lot which confuses Oikawa.

“Yeah. I do, but why are we going in here?” Oikawa asks with his steps slowing down, falling behind Futakuchi who was walking speedily.

The other doesn’t take too long to realize that he’s decelerated, so he stops to look back at Oikawa and points to a black sedan three cars away from where he was standing, “That’s our car.”

Oikawa blinks slowly, feeling even more confused. He puts his hands in front of him as he says, “You’re not 18 yet. You can’t have possibly driven without a license or supervision from someone who has, don’t you?”

“I do have a student license, but my mom drove it here.” Futakuchi rattles on with a bored look on his face, then he turns his back and unlocks the car using the transponder he picked out from his pocket. Oikawa walks towards the car as the younger gets inside, looking at what Futakuchi was busying himself with.

“Sorry, I forgot my wallet.” Futakuchi grunts as he stepped out of the car just as fast as he got in, really just grabbing his wallet.

“So, where do you wanna go? Want to get some coffee? My mom won’t mind if we went for a drive with this to be honest, but I don’t think you’d be fine with illegal shit.”

Oikawa ignores that statement and takes a shaky breath as he scales the pros and cons of telling Futakuchi a trivia about him. Then he blows raspberries after he decides and says, “I have a license.”

“Hm?” Futakuchi hums, raising his brows as he didn’t understand what Oikawa meant by saying it.

“I have a driver’s license.” Oikawa reiterates, then he adds, “I’m supervising you, so we can go on a drive.”

“You do?” Futakuchi says with an incredulous expression on his face.

Oikawa nods confidently while he takes out his wallet to show his license, airily answering, “Yeah, my parents forced me to.”

Futakuchi squinted at his photo but he puts it back inside immediately before he sees it, then the younger says, “Okay. Why don’t you just drive it then?”

Oikawa pauses and purses his lips, he releases it with a pop as he answers, “I don’t think I’m ready.”

“And you think a student driver would be?” Futakuchi retorts, a silly look on his face.

Oikawa sighs again, because he’d rather let Futakuchi wreck his own car than him, “It’s okay, as long as our destination wouldn’t be hell.”

“Oh, Oikawa-san, if I may compare, I’m much more hellish than my driving skills.” Futakuchi tells him with his lips in a smirk, and his tone devilishly taunting.

Oikawa isn’t entertained by the act, what it actually did was disappoint him, but he accepts the demon’s invitation anyway.

“Okay, let’s go.” He says, and Futakuchi gestures towards the other side of the car.

Oikawa walks over to the passenger side and remembers one hobby of his; it was playing with the devil.

But on second thought, “Should I just drive?”

“ _ Oikawa _ - _ san _ , I thought you trust me?”

—

As they get comfortable in the car, Futakuchi in the driver’s seat and Oikawa in the passenger seat, Oikawa notices that Futakuchi was wearing a watch with black leather straps on his left wrist, and upon discreet inspection, he finds that it’s a branded vintage type. It’s a shock, honestly, that Futakuchi wears that kind of watch. Oikawa didn’t think of him as the posh and chic type of a playboy. He put him in the classification of fuck boys that smell like a specific body spray and wear shiny metal watches for display purposes, or none because time doesn’t matter to them.

He decides it’s worth mentioning, “So you’re a classy rich bastard, huh? Nice watch.”

“Hm?” Futakuchi grunts, scrolling down his phone even before he wears his seatbelt, “Thanks, and no. I’m not. It’s just that my mom earns more than we need and she has nothing else to spend it on except purses and me.”

Oikawa dips his head to the side, contemplating if he can speak about what he heard, then Futakuchi looks up from his phone for a second to see his wondering face. Oikawa felt like Futakuchi saw right through him.

“Yeah, it’s just the two of us.” Futakuchi, sounding blasé about it, says as he goes back to scrolling on his phone, “It’s nothing to be concerned about. I’m not sad about it.”

Oikawa translates that to ‘ _ I can talk about it, but do I really have to _ ?’, and decides to let it go for now.

Futakuchi then places his phone down in front, putting it up against the car’s front monitor, tapping the wheel.

“So, got anywhere you want to head to?” Futakuchi asks as he slips on his seatbelt, adjusting his posture over the wheel, ready to drive.

Oikawa tries to think of somewhere, but he, and can never emphasize it enough, is  _ horrible _ with handling decisions. It’s also why he didn’t want to be on the wheel and be responsible for steering them forward.

So he answers simply, “Anywhere.”

He sinks into his seat comfortably, putting his hands behind his nape as he looks at the other side to meet Futakuchi’s eyes, a carefree smile on his lips.

Futakuchi mirrors his expression and nods, then he presses something on his phone for an English song by The Kooks to play through the car stereo.

Oikawa hasn’t heard a song by the band yet, but this first particular song choice assured him that he’d be fine listening to the younger’s playlist, seeing they have quite similar tastes.

Futakuchi takes the car out of neutral and drives off to somewhere.

—

Oikawa notes that despite being doubtful at first, Futakuchi drives smoothly which makes him a good driver, except for when he’s swearing at ‘ _ dumbass drivers’ _ now and then (but with the window closed). So they weren’t exactly travelling in pure silence. There was the background music, Oikawa reminding Futakuchi to drive safely, their chat about trivial things like volleyball, volleyball tips, volleyball strategies, and even volleyball teams or players. Especially Karasuno.

“Give them hell the next time you play against them for me, specifically that _ genius _ Tobio-chan.” Oikawa says bitterly, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Oh, for sure, because unlike you, I’d be able to go to nationals.” Futakuchi says with a wicked smile, trying not to laugh at his quip so it would prickle Oikawa’s frail pride effectively.

“Hey! Too early!” Oikawa squawks, his voice in a higher octave.

“Oh, does it still sting? Lemme kiss it better.” Futakuchi says in a tone like he would to an infant, leaning towards Oikawa with pouted lips in a kissing motion but with his eyes still on the road ahead.

Oikawa moves his body away and sticks his back on the car door, squeamish, “Ugh. Get away, you icky buffoon.”

Futakuchi backs off with a very pleased laugh, but it stops when Oikawa acts like he’s disgusted, “Stop flirting with me. It’s uncomfortable.”

Futakuchi’s chipper expression wanes visibly in a matter of milliseconds, and he takes a good hard look at Oikawa before focusing back on driving. He licks his lips, his mouth nervously opens and closes, then he says with a low voice, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Oikawa realizes his mistake of looking too serious or for making it seem too real to trigger an apology from Futakuchi, and it pains Oikawa to see this side of him, wanting to expel the guilt that shouldn’t be in Futakuchi’s eyes. He wants to curse himself, and then say sorry, but rather, he thinks quickly on his feet. With the way he handles a moment like this, it would either work out or get worse, and he prays that this time it would work.

_ When faced with overwhelming situations, fend it off with a bad joke _ .

“I got you, huh?” Oikawa says with a goofy tone. Futakuchi’s tensed eyes look back at him, and he tries to smile wider as a better hint that he was just fooling around, “So you  _ are _ flirting with me.”

Futakuchi blinks nervously, breathing shallowly, and  _ then _ it finally clicks.

“Ah,  _ god. Fuck. You _ .” Futakuchi breathily curses with a shaky laugh, sounding like he’s relieved but also very irritated, “My  _ hands _ are fucking  _ shaking _ , you  _ shithead _ .”

Oikawa looks at the hand Futakuchi was purposely showing him, and he can see it trembling tremendously. He also glances at his other hand that was grasping the steering wheel and observes that he’s holding onto it too tight which caused his knuckles to go pale.

“Oh, shit? I’m sorry!” Oikawa says, but it doesn’t sound genuine at all because of his uncontrolled snickering. He feels bad about finding the situation comically absurd, but Futakuchi joins him with a condescending laughter of his own, and it humors Oikawa even more, so he apologizes again. He continues trying to say sorry but the quivering guy was talking over him, loudly ranting about the long and speedy train of anxious thoughts which passed his mind in such a small given time frame while he curses and curses that their laughter doesn’t stop.

Once Futakuchi stopped blabbering to drag Oikawa’s morals to the dirt after a minute and that they both finally calmed down, Oikawa apologizes one more time that he tried so hard to make it sound genuine, but he got a strong, vicious “ _ fuck you _ ” instead of forgiveness. Oikawa admits he deserves it, so they ended up sharing another cheery fit.

Futakuchi composes himself after, and when he speaks again, there was a reminiscent look on his face, “It’s laughable to think about now, but this happened to me before, though not as boldly as you did.”

This time it’s Oikawa’s grin that disappears, worried that he might have unintentionally opened old scars.

“It was just last year when I was still a freshman. He was a third year middle blocker that I bicker with a lot.” Futakuchi laughs, and it sounded like a sincere one, as if he’s recalling a happy memory, but it just looked like a well acted out script to Oikawa. He then comes to realize that it’s not an old scar, but a wound that’s still healing.

“One time it was just us two outside of the court looking at the moon and stars, and I joked about kissing him right then and there because the sky, the mood and the time was right.” Futakuchi says in a jolly tone, raising his arm against the window to rest his head on his hand, “He held my hand for a second and squeezed it as he said one word.”

Futakuchi pauses, and Oikawa thinks it wasn’t for emphasis but maybe because remembering it still brings ache.

“Don’t.” Futakuchi says, a dead look in his eyes, “That’s all he said.”

Futakuchi releases a shaky breath, but when he speaks, his words were poised and collected, “The next morning, he wouldn’t look at me and only acknowledged me on the court. After he graduated, we never talked again, and I let him go just like that.”

He chuckles like it was nothing, and it makes Oikawa feel worse about what he did, and himself. He tries not to pity Futakuchi, and he tries not to be a hypocrite, but what else can he do besides be sorry?

“I’m sorry.” Oikawa whispers, not being able to think of anything else to say.

“Hm?“ Futakuchi hums, then he shoves the sad topic aside with a chortle as if to say he’s alright, but to Oikawa’s ears it sounded more like him being sarcastic and bitter than him being fine.

“It’s okay.” He says with a light mood, his foot stepping heavier on the gas pedal, the car suddenly surging forward as their speed nears the given limit, and he adds with a flat tone, “Don’t be. It just makes it harder.”

Even with the quirky song playing through the stereo was worming its way into Oikawa’s brain, Futakuchi’s emotionless sentence echoes louder than it inside his skull, and he tries his hardest not to think of its implications.

“Okay.” Oikawa answers, acting a role he’s picked for himself, but there’s a subdued feeling inside him that doubts if he can act his part until the ending.

He sees Futakuchi’s hollow gaze on him through the rearview mirror, and he gets goosebumps when Futakuchi’s lips slowly curve into a pernicious smirk as he mutters back, “Glad to hear.”

—

It has been half an hour since they got in the car, and Oikawa’s buttocks we’re starting to hurt a little. Futakuchi must be in the same situation because he drives into a gasoline station to park in front of a convenient store that was in its premises.

“Thank god. My ass was about to go numb.” Oikawa says as they go out of the car, stretching his lower back by bending side to side. He sees the other side of the car open and Futakuchi’s head pops way above the car’s roof since they’re both taller than the car.

“Really? That was just a short drive, but I guess it’s because you don’t have much cushion behind you down there.” Futakuchi naturally says, and Oikawa’s not sure if it was for humor or if he thinks he’s simply stating the truth.

“Why? Is yours any better?” Oikawa dares, and Futakuchi locks the car with his transponder before crossing over to the other side. He shows Oikawa his back and then he spanks one of his ass cheeks to let his hand stay there for a second.

“Yes, Oikawa-san. I  _ have _ a cute butt.” Futakuchi says, circling around to wink at Oikawa with his tongue clicking as a sound effect. Futakuchi turns his back on him again, and upon further inspection though, the annoying little shit actually wasn’t wrong about his anatomy, but Oikawa would hate to admit it out loud so he clamps his mouth shut into a tight line.

Futakuchi begins to walk away from the car, and Oikawa follows him closely from behind,  _ not _ for the view.

“Okay, I may have a flat ass but I know you still want to  _ own _ it.” Oikawa rebukes while glaring at Futakuchi’s nape, refusing to back down from this fight.

Futakuchi tiredly sighs, then he twists his head towards Oikawa, sneering as he said, “Again, if it helps you sleep at night, Oikawa-san. At least you’re aware that you do have a flat ass.”

Oikawa groans, “ _ Once _ I do some squats, you and Makki are going to eat shit.”

“Mm, yummy, but for now let’s eat some lunch. It’s past 12 noon and I’m craving some fried chicken.” Futakuchi suggests as they enter the store, and as if it was on cue, Oikawa’s stomach made a sound only he can hear, feeling hungry all of a sudden.

Futakuchi makes a bee line straight towards the cashier and orders immediately — two orders of  _ honetsuki _ (fried bone-in chicken), two of  _ honenashi _ (fried boneless chicken), and four orders of different flavored  _ karaage _ (deep-fried chicken nuggets). Basically, two bone in, two boneless, and 20 nuggets of chicken. He then leaves the counter while the staff prepares his order, and Oikawa wants to follow him, feeling like he’s a chick and the younger is a mother hen, but when he sees Futakuchi not too far from him, he stays on his ground.

He watches as Futakuchi grabs two regular  _ onigiri _ and two bottles of water. He goes back in front of the cashier to place his added purchases on top of the counter before walking away again, and this time to serve himself some hot brewed coffee. Easily being able to communicate with Oikawa who was surveilling him like a hawk, he gestures to Oikawa if he wanted a cup as well and Oikawa answers him with a nauseous face, giving Futakuchi yet another new material for things he can use against Oikawa.

“You really don’t drink coffee?” Futakuchi asks as he goes to the fridge again, taking a soda can and looking at Oikawa for affirmation but Oikawa says water’s already enough. Futakuchi takes a bottled milktea, and Oikawa thinks twice before answering, so Futakuchi snorts and brings it to the counter assuming Oikawa’s hesitance was a yes. He then tells Oikawa, “You’re a  _ baby _ .”

“Yes, and what about it?” Oikawa replies without missing a beat, his eyes looking around the  _ conbini _ , uninterested with defending his distaste for coffee. He hears Futakuchi chuckle, then the staff informs them that their orders of chicken were ready. Futakuchi handles the payment with a card, a reality that is a little hard to swallow for Oikawa.

He approaches the counter as well and takes the heavier tray full of edible things while Futakuchi takes the second one. As they walk towards a table, Oikawa clears his throat to speak, “The  _ senpai _ usually pays for the meal but you ordered too much and I don’t have enough money on me, so let’s just split the bill.”

Futakuchi snaps his head towards Oikawa’s direction, then he shakes his head, snickering as he says, “A  _ kouhai _ can treat a  _ senpai _ too. Don’t worry about it.”

“Rich bastard.” Oikawa comments with a scoff.

“I’m not. Just raised and given the tools to be independent.” Futakuchi retorts like it’s normal to drive a car and have a card at the age of 17 years old.

“Or spoiled.” Oikawa says, and it prompts a coy smile on Futakuchi’s face.

“OK, maybe that too.” He admits as they settle down on their seats.

Oikawa was about to prepare the table and their food, but Futakuchi beat him to it while Oikawa only watched. It makes him aware of how caring and attentive the younger is for other people. He did just say Futakuchi’s spoiled, but right now, he’s the one getting pampered by the brat. It hurts his dignity a little, but he’s also feeling gratified by it.

Futakuchi places one onigiri, one honetsuki and one honenashi directly in front of Oikawa, then does the same set-up for himself, and places the karaage between their plates so they equally have access to all flavors; regular, red, cheese and a limited edition plum bonito.

They ate together with little conversation, and one of their topics was spiciness since they had some spicy karaage. Oikawa was deeply upset to learn that the black coffee drinking boy is also a spice tolerant little shit. He’s beaten in both categories, so he stays underneath him in the food pyramid.

Futakuchi teases him about losing in the coffee and spice departments, but Oikawa argues that Futakuchi lost to him in volleyball and that’s what truly matters most.

“Hey. Too early.” Futakuchi coolly says with a soft stare.

“Oh, does it still sting? Lemme kiss it better.” Oikawa says with a kissing movement, mimicking what Futakuchi did earlier in the car, but instead of re-enacting Oikawa’s role, Futakuchi dived in close to Oikawa’s personal space instead, his face right in front of Oikawa’s.

With a seductive smirk, Futakuchi huskily says, “ _ Are you brave enough though _ ?”

Oikawa feels Futakuchi’s words against his lips and he pulls away in a snap, contemplating whether the feeling on his lips was real or imaginary. Heat rushes towards his cheeks, and he scoffs to compose himself, then he raises his chin to try gaining back dominance (if there ever was from the start), and says with a fake courage, “What if I am? Would  _ you _ have kissed  _ back _ ?”

Futakuchi huffs with great mirth, looking away at Oikawa’s embarrassing face before returning it again with a depreciating look in his eyes, speaking, “Alas, a coward like you would never know.”

Oikawa wanted nothing else but to prove him wrong, though regrettably for Oikawa, Futakuchi’s right on point. He’s a man that goes into full panic mode whenever something gay happens to him, but what can he do? He’s only starting to understand and get comfortable with it and himself as being one.

It makes him wonder if Futakuchi is a member of the community as well. It would seem like he is, judging from the rainbow-colored sour tape, the incident with the third year, and how he flirts with Oikawa, but he doesn’t want to impose, so he’d wait for Futakuchi to speak about it on his own. Assuming one’s sexuality is a grave mistake, and he should always approach the topic carefully.

“Oikawa-san, stop thinking or else I’m finishing the red karaage you’re staring blankly at.”

“Huh?”

“Listen, I’ll make it simple.  _ Fucking _ resume feeding yourself.”

—

After they ate, with some karaage pieces as left overs that Oikawa’s holding, they‘re now roaming around the convenience store together, a basket in Futakuchi’s hand.

“What are you shopping for?” Oikawa innocently asks, unsure if he would ever predict anything that goes into Futakuchi’s mind. The youngster is just like an exploding package full of surprises and a lot of mess. Not that he doesn’t enjoy it though. He’s actually entertained by it, though it would be a pain in the ass to clean up later.

“ _ We’re _ shopping together.” Futakuchi says, grabbing a huge bag of chips filled with air instead of actual chips and drops them into the basket, “Go and take some snacks you like.”

“You sound like a parent.” Oikawa remarks, wearing a childish pout.

“Good to know I’d at least be able to act the part in the future even if I only have one.”

Oikawa unconsciously freezes in his tracks behind Futakuchi, thinking if he was insensitive with his comment. His abrupt stop gets noticed immediately just like earlier, and Futakuchi apologetically smiles, “Sorry. I say self deprecating jokes all the time.”

Oikawa looks back at Futakuchi with low energy, his chest rising with a huge intake of air so he can sigh loudly. Futakuchi only raises his hands to his side, palms facing upwards.

_ Nothing we can do about it.  _ He seems to say.

With less dark humor, they got to roam around the shelves to pick the snacks they like and drinks to keep them awake and hydrated. Futakuchi got himself some strong, canned coffee while Oikawa grabbed energy drinks for a boost on the road. Futakuchi also paid for all of it, which prompted Oikawa again to ask if they could split the bill, and he was rejected even before he got to finish his sentence.

They go back to the car, fill the car tank with fuel, air the wheels, and leave for a destination Oikawa still doesn’t know where to.

—

Oikawa’s phone quacks for the first time that day inside the car, and Futakuchi jolts out of his relaxed state to look at Oikawa questioningly, “What? You brought a duck with you?”

“Sorry.” Oikawa sheepishly laughs, then he shows his phone notification and points at it, “It’s my ringtone.”

Futakuchi sighs in relief, back to looking chill on the driver’s seat, “I would have fucking left you and your duck at the side of the road if you did so without my permission.”

“Would you really?” Oikawa asks with his lips curved downwards sadly, sounding a little too hurt, too woeful.

Oikawa can see Futakuchi was about to say ‘yes’ so he tries harder in doing puppy eyes to the extent that a human eye physiology would enable him, and it works because Futakuchi admits defeat, “To be honest, no.”

“I knew it.” Oikawa cutely says, scrunching his nose at Futakuchi and making a roar gesture with one hand as if he’s playing on Futakuchi’s weakness.

“Don’t be too comfortable. I’m not a dick but if you push my limits, I can still kick you out of this vehicle.” Futakuchi taunts, but another set of quacking steals Oikawa’s attention, so he adds, “Is that your lover or your mom?“

“If it was a lover, would you be jealous?” Oikawa, while typing, tries to sound like he’s flirting. He wants to learn how to confidently flirt with the same sex, and Futakuchi can be his guinea pig, or mentor, or tutor, or all of the above.

“Yeah, we’re on a date right now, aren’t we? So, of course, I would be.” Futakuchi smoothly replies, and Oikawa adores his witty personality. It’s mostly the main reason why he likes his company, they always get to have an intelligent banter without being downright insulting, and Oikawa likes that wavelength.

“It’s not, though. My fourth girlfriend just left me.” Oikawa says, shrugging as he taps send.

“Fourth girlfriend!? You’re a player? Guess you really can’t judge a book by its cover.” Futakuchi exclaims, very shocked with the news, but this is new to Oikawa as well. Most people assume he  _ is _ a playboy and when he gets asked how many girlfriends he’s had and says four, their reaction is usually, ‘ _ oh, that’s all _ ?’ instead of looking at him like he’d been fooling them for a long time.

“Futakuchi-chan, some people told me they didn’t expect such a low number. How are you the opposite? Perhaps it was a different book cover that you saw?” Oikawa deadpans, not sure how to react that Futakuchi didn’t stereotype him as fuck boy unlike what he did to the younger.

Futakuchi only laughs at the inquiry, or the whole situation, shaking his head, “Well, aren’t you full of surprises? I thought you were loyal and so in love with someone. I didn’t expect you to get in a relationship  _ four times _ .”

“I usually get branded as a man whore so being assumed as a decent being is an experience that I haven’t had for so long. Thanks?” Oikawa says, in a robotic manner, unsure how and what to react.

The other one is silent for a moment, looking like he wants to say something. Oikawa decides to type on his phone while he waits for him to speak.

“Well, did you love them?” Futakuchi asks, a little softer than usual as he averts his eyes, shy that he’s asking such a personal question.

Oikawa hums as he thinks back on the memories.

“I liked them, but y’know, I don’t really get the concept of love yet. I think I love this person, but I don’t want a relationship with him, so what is that other kind of love? Will I ever be in love?” Oikawa says, and his phone quacks again so he hurriedly looks at the reply.

He sees Futakuchi catch a sight of his face, then his chuckle sounds like he’s ridiculing what Oikawa said.

“With the way you’re smiling right now, it looks like you already are.” Futakuchi comments as Oikawa hits send, and he looks up from his phone to stare at Futakuchi, wondering what he meant by saying that.

**From: Iwa-chan**

_ 13:23 _

On an adventure? With who?

**To: Iwa-chan**

_ 13:23 _

Hmmm...

_ 13:24 _

Somebody.

—

After another half an hour after the lunch stop, Oikawa hears a distant splashing.

_ Wait. Are we _ —

He didn’t want to guess it wrongly, so he waits for visual evidence of where Futakuchi might have brought them to. Once a glance of it appears, Oikawa couldn’t keep his enthusiasm hidden.

“Oh, wow.” Oikawa says, stunned at the amazing view offered to him as he looks out the window, ”A date at the seaside, huh?”

“Yeah.” Futakuchi confirms, inspecting Oikawa’s expression to see if he likes it or not and Oikawa turns to give him a thumbs up.

“You brought a lover here yet?” Oikawa asks, a little excited for Futakuchi to spill his life of romance, but Futakuchi kills it immediately.

“I haven’t gotten into a relationship yet, Oikawa-san.” Futakuchi says, a little smug about it, “Or I choose not to.”

_ Oh _ .

“I only fall in love with people who I know won’t put down needless attachments.” He continues, a bittersweet grin upon his lips.

Oikawa looks out the window again to stare at the sea instead, feeling uncomfortable to see Futakuchi’s melancholic but content expression. Then he says, “Sounds like a badly chosen coping mechanism.”

He hears an obnoxious laugh, “It’s not that bad, Oikawa _ - _ san.”

—

“You’re really going to wear it?” Oikawa asks Futakuchi after they get out of the car, taking another look at Futakuchi’s shoes.

“The right question is, when have I not grabbed the opportunity to wear it since Aone and Nametsu gifted it to me?” Futakuchi sassily says, stepping on the ground boastfully with his chest out with pride.

Oikawa finds it funny, but also amazing, that Futakuchi has the strength and confidence to look like that.

He’s wearing the widely hated silicone footwear on Earth. Green ones like the Dateko theme color — not too bright, not too dark. Then there’s also pins of a turtle, a bear, a red rose, a rainbow, and of course, an iron wall. Oikawa’s not sure if the iron wall pin was offered in the store or customized, and if it is the latter, that is a lot of effort. (He would later learn that it actually is customized, and that the turtle represents the one Futakuchi gave Aone for his birthday, the bear as Dateko’s mascot, the red rose as Nametsu because she’s the beauty amongst the beasts of the Dateko volleyball team, and a gay bacon. Futakuchi corrected him that it wasn’t a rainbow but a gay bacon, which is more widely known as sour tape.)

Oikawa thinks it’s a big shame that they would not have a big audience for Futakuchi’s fashion. There are a few tourists but there are not a lot of swimmers so the beach is mostly empty.

Futakuchi walks in front of him, and Oikawa thinks he should look lame by now simply because of the plastic on his feet but Oikawa was forced to throw that thought away. Futakuchi wears it like a champ, and Oikawa thinks he should be a model if he can make an ugly pair of shoes look hip and cool. He actually feels jealous because he, too, has a pair of those slippers in black but he has not looked that good in it like Futakuchi.

Oikawa had a change of shoes as well and used the slip ons Futakuchi had as a spare at the backseat so that their shoes and socks won’t get wet or collect sand. The driver is meticulously clean with his car, and Oikawa knows of this because he got warned by the guy to not to leave a single crumb of chips on the car seat when he was eating snacks earlier.

“Oikawa-san, can you lend me a hand?” Futakuchi asks as he goes to the trunk, and Oikawa raises a brow, wondering why his help was needed but stands beside Futakuchi anyway. He grabs the paper bag of food they bought from the convenience store earlier from Futakuchi so he can open the trunk.

When it opens, Oikawa registers a black backpack, a mini cooler, and a beach umbrella.

Oikawa cranes his neck to the side, feeling his blood rising a little, “You don’t say you have these shit everyday in your trunk, right?”

“Uhm.” Futakuchi starts, scratching the back of his nape, “No, except for the bag, but yeah. I actually planned for an illegal drive to the seaside today if I didn’t meet you. I guess we were both lucky.”

“And yet,  _ you _ ,” Oikawa interrupts, glaring at the prepared tools in front of him, “...still asked where  _ I _ wanted to go? What if I said  _ Tokyo _ ?”

“Then we’ll drive to Tokyo. I can go to the seaside illegally someday.” Futakuchi nonchalantly answers, leaning on the trunk.

“Even if you prepared this much? And Tokyo’s at least a four hour drive!” Oikawa nags, and he knows it’s unnecessary for him to be mad about it, but he’s just mad. Should he hide his emotions? No. He doesn’t think so.  _ Nobody _ should be a pushover as great as Futakuchi.

“So what? I like spontaneous shit, and why are you getting angry about it? We’re  _ here _ anyway. You weren’t a demanding hitchhiker at all.” Futakuchi said with a cute snarl in his face, and Oikawa thinks about letting him be but it doesn’t fully take away the heat in Oikawa’s head.

He’s still upset that Futakuchi is too nice. Very.

Futakuchi takes back the paper bag and sits it on top of the mini cooler before pushing it into Oikawa’s hands, still with a sulking face. He made sure that Oikawa sees it, so the older man gives in for now and focuses on balancing the bag of snacks against his chest instead.

If Futakuchi had prepared for a beach trip even without him picking up a stray licensed driver named Oikawa on the sidewalk, there must have been a reason for it.

With the huge umbrella in Futakuchi’s arms and his backpack, they now head towards the actual scenery. As they went out of the covered parking lot, they felt that the sun was still too hot on their skin, and the breeze is so strong that it pulls on Oikawa’s overcoat, but nevertheless, the view is truly breathtaking.

They efficiently did their set up with the umbrella in haste but made sure it won’t be dragged away by the wind then proceeded to lay a blanket on the sand where they can sit on. The backpack Futakuchi took with him was like that female Spanish cartoon character’s violet backpack, or a talking cat’s pocket, because everything they needed from blankets to weights to sunblocks to sunglasses, and even some survival gear were inside it. Oikawa thinks Futakuchi probably had a lot of badges as a boy scout, seeing how prepared he is to be this spontaneous.

Once they finish, Oikawa takes off his coat and sits. The umbrella’s shade and blanket were big enough for two six foot tall teenagers. They even have enough comfortable space between them provided by the mini cooler.

Oikawa then gets to just slow down and simply use his senses to the fullest — he quietly observes and appreciates the blue hue of the waves, the fresh salty smell of the ocean, the fine white sand on his skin, the calm surge and ebbing of the waves, and the sun reflecting off the water as if it’s glittering.

He takes a lungful of air and releases it in a loud satisfied puff, eyes closed as a gentle wind caresses his face, “This shit’s kinda healing, huh?”

“Mm.” He hears Futakuchi say, his tone detached, and with concern, Oikawa turns his head to look at his companion.

The younger was looking out into the horizon with an ache in his expression, a slight tremor in his lids as if he’s squinting in order to see better, his brows slightly tense, and his eyes searching for something in the waters.

“Hey.” Oikawa calls out gently in a whisper, hesitant to approach.

Futakuchi lowers his gaze to the sand, like it was a switch, then he slowly meets Oikawa’s eyes, humming with a forced smile, “Hm?”

“You okay?” Oikawa asks, and Futakuchi nods while swallowing.

Oikawa wants to try digging deeper, but Futakuchi releases a tired sigh, and Oikawa sees his walls slowly crumbling away.

“I don’t expect you to, but do you remember the first song I played?” Futakuchi asks, his eyes out towards the ocean once again, remaining a little distant from Oikawa emotionally.

Oikawa thinks for a second with a tilt of his head, then he says, “Yeah. Seaside by The Kooks? I liked it so I took a note of it on my phone. Was it on purpose?”

“Heh? You liked it?” Futakuchi hums, his expression looking like he never would’ve predicted Oikawa to do so, “That’s unexpected.”

“What about it then?” Oikawa prompts before Futakuchi loses his mood to share what he wanted to.

“Well, uh, I played that song some time ago in the car with my mom.” He starts, biting his lower lips, trying to formulate the right way to tell the story in his head first before speaking, “Then she told me it reminds her of dad.”

Oikawa’s mouth opens slightly, but he doesn’t speak, letting Futakuchi feel comfortable with what he wants to discuss. He’s curious, but he doesn’t want to prod too deep so he would just listen to what Futakuchi would voluntarily let him know.

“How do I say this? Mm...” He mumbles, chewing his lower lips. Then he clicks his tongue, “My dad died before he got married to my mom, then she never tried to marry anybody else because she said, only my father was able to bring her back to the shore.”

Futakuchi softly chuckles, “Sounds weird right? But that’s metaphorical  _ and _ also literal. It’s a long story, but I’ll give you hints. My mom can’t swim, and they met at the seaside. Or technically at the middle of the sea, whatever.”

Oikawa, only getting hints about it, did not pry deeper even in his thoughts. He wouldn’t give himself a definite conclusion if Futakuchi didn’t want to disclose the exact idea of it.

“They didn’t fall in love immediately, but my dad always asked to meet her by the seaside. She said he helped her recover from what happened and a lot of other things, then she gradually fell for him. They were preparing for a wedding when he died of a car crash, and she honestly told me that she thought of following him.” Futakuchi says, a wistful smile on his lips.

“But you see, I’m already a bitch as a fetus because I had a tantrum inside of her womb when she planned to do so. Kicking and punching.” Futakuchi says in a light manner, and he laughs, “She said it felt like I was nagging her, but thanks to that she remembered that she still got me. After I got born, she said that she swore to dedicate her best to me, their only child.”

Futakuchi sniffles, blinking fast, “Sometimes I feel sorry for growing up as a prick. I mean, I’m good to her as a son, but—"

He takes a deep breath, a jesting expression on his face, “Romance wise? I’m sorry, mom and dad. I can’t be as cheesy as you two.”

Futakuchi laughs again, and this time Oikawa joins in because Futakuchi’s eyes were inviting, so he knew he could say, “Yeah. Your outlook on love is pretty edgy, but your parents sounded like they’re from a Nicholas Sparks novel.”

“I know, I know, but that’s why I’m here.” Futakuchi says, looking back at the ocean like he did earlier, “I wanted to see alone what they saw here when they met, but you’re here with me, so I don’t think I would.”

“Ah, okay. You want me to go now?” Oikawa says, pointing at the road with his thumb while Futakuchi lies down on the blanket, raising his arms to cover his eyes, saying, “I was kidding.”

Oikawa giggles, “I know.”

They were silent for a while after that, Oikawa not sure of what he can say to Futakuchi because he didn’t want to cross a line or risk saying something that might have a different effect for the younger. Plus, it looked like it took a lot of energy and effort out of Futakuchi to open up about his parents, so silence would be comforting.

“Y’know, whether or not you were here with me, I don’t think I’d have achieved my goal. The seaside is my parents’, maybe mine’s somewhere different. Besides, I’m not a Sparks fan anyway.” Futakuchi blabbers after, his eyes still covered by his arm.

“Mm, neither am I. Though the next time you’re alone here, you won’t be able to see this scenery at its peak beauty right now.” Oikawa says, his tone perky as he looks down at Futakuchi. The latter uncovers one of his eyes to look at Oikawa, and he winks as he says, “Because I won’t be there with you anymore.”

Oikawa giggles again while Futakuchi scoffs, laughs and then coughs as if he choked on air, rolling away from Oikawa as if the pompousness was contagious. After he composes himself, he asks, “Do you read Korean folktales? That sounds like what Go Cheongmyeong said to Jang Manwol.”

“Sorry, who?”

“Nevermind.” Futakuchi says as he lies back down comfortably, covering half of his face with the crook of his arm once again, his lips the only thing exposed as he said, “But yeah, I don’t think I’d be able to go here and not think of you.”

Oikawa short circuits for a quick second, then he snorts amusedly as he says, “I can never understand how you think. You’re hot then you’re cold—“

“Thanks, I’ve always wanted to be a Katy Perry song.”

Oikawa growls, saying, “It  _ wasn’t _ a compliment.”

“ _ Roar _ . I know.”

__

_ — _

__

After cleaning their exposed skin with wet wipes for babies (Futakuchi said if it’s okay for a baby’s ass then it’s okay for his face), they put on some sunblock before leaving the safety of the shade provided by their umbrella. They folded up the hem of their pants up below their knees, then they walked around the beach, looked for crabs to adore and let loose, then also splashed cold water towards each other because they love riling up one another. As always, being competitive enemies for no reason at all, splashing turned into shoving each other into the water, but they decided to end it with a deuce because they both have their phones and wallets inside their pockets. Also because Oikawa almost lost his eyeglasses during the fight and became slightly blind. With lady luck on their side, nobody stepped on it before Futakuchi found it five feet away from the shore line.

Having wasted their energy in trying to pest each other, they took a break from quarrelling and sat back down in their blanket, their pants, shirts and hair a little wet.

“Let’s leave our phones and wallets then see who’d be able to toss the other into the water, because  _ I’m _ pretty confident.”

“Lucky for you,  _ megane _ -san, I wouldn’t take the bait because I’d rather not have you sit on the passenger side with soaked clothes.”

“Chicken shit.”

“Buck-buck-buck,  _ bitch _ .”

While waiting for them to dry, Futakuchi excuses himself to grab another towel from the store near the beach. He gave the first one to Oikawa because Futakuchi came out to be the better water bender between the two of them so Oikawa suffered more than he did.

Feeling thirsty then, Oikawa opened the mini cooler, expecting to see refreshments like juice or soda, but what he saw inside were beer cans amongst cubes of ice. He grimaces as he digs for something other than alcoholic, swaying his hand around the cold pool of ice, and he touches something like glass. He brings it out and finds a glass bottle with light brown liquid inside. He inspects it with keen eyes but he sees no label about what it could be on any side.

Oikawa lays it down in front of him and holds his breath; someday, somehow, somewhere, Oikawa would end up like the cat in that popular idiom about curiosity.

He saw that it’s not sealed anymore and it’s been consumed before, so Oikawa urges himself to believe it won’t be today yet.

He opens up the bottle and takes a whiff of its contents, which he didn’t anticipate to smell like sugar and fruit. Even more intrigued, he takes his empty water bottle from earlier and pours himself a taste of it, careful not to spill a drop on the blanket. After a centimeter of it was transferred into his bottle, he closes it up and drops it back down in its ice bath. He mentally prepares himself as he reaches for his water bottle before he throws his head back to gulp down what he poured into it.

It slips into Oikawa’s mouth and coats his tongue, then he swallows. He settles down the water bottle and stares into nothing while he waits if anything bad was going to happen, and when nothing did, he smiles happily, “Plum! It tastes like plum!”

“Oya? You already drank without me?” He hears Futakuchi’s voice and he jumps out of his skin when he hears it so close. He looks up to see Futakuchi right behind him, and notices the same basic towel he let Oikawa borrow. He assumed Futakuchi to be flamboyant, but he was again proven wrong because the kid lives in a standard minimalistic way unlike he thought he would be like.

“What do you mean drank? I just had some good tasting plum juice.” Oikawa unbelievingly squints, licking the excess on his lips.

“Ever heard of  _ umeshu _ ?” Futakuchi asks as he flops down on his side of the blanket, crossing his legs in a W form.

_ Umeshu? Plum wine? _

“Oh, so this is umeshu? It tastes a lot better from the one I’ve had before.” Oikawa asks, pointing at the beautiful glass of plum extract.

Futakuchi nods, grabbing a can of beer, and opening it before speaking, “Yeah, my mom likes it a lot so she makes two bottles of it every six months. She started to make a third one every year since my 16th birthday.”

Oikawa laughs, “She sounds like an easygoing mom if she lets her son drink, and drive, while still underage.”

“She kind of is, though she still always reminds me to do it only when it’s safe for now. Then she told me she wouldn’t care if I get blacked out drunk once I turn 20, but warned me that she wouldn’t tolerate drunk driving.” Futakuchi says, bringing the can to his lips and gulping for three times straight. Oikawa sniggered at his observation, then he listed it off as a strange habit of the younger.

“You’ve got a cool mom then, but anyway, can I have more of it?” Oikawa asks, already taking out the bottle out of the cooler with a silly smile.

“What happened to mister ‘frantic about the police seeing a teenager drink in public’?” Futakuchi sends him a dirty look, calling him out on his hypocrisy.

“Oh, c’mon. It’s the beach. It’s okay for now.” Oikawa chirrups, showing a knowing face towards Futakuchi as he puts up an OK hand sign, then it dawns on him that something is  _ not _ ‘Oll Korrect’.

“ _ Hold _ the fuck up.” He strictly says with a stiff finger pointing at Futakuchi who was about to take another swig of his beer. The younger’s hand freezes midair, then he quizzically raises his brows at Oikawa, so he states his thoughts.

“You’re. Fucking.  _ Driving _ .” Oikawa drawls out the sentence, emphasizing every word, but Futakuchi only sighs at him and drinks from his can of beer like it doesn’t bother him.

Oikawa theatrically shows his dismay and repulsion at the younger’s reckless and unwanted behavior.

“Oikawa-san, before you continue your thoughts of me as a shitty delinquent, let me ask you something.” Futakuchi tells him with an undisturbed glance.

“What is it?” Oikawa says, coming back to his normal mode.

“It’s only three in the afternoon.” Futakuchi starts, his eyes appearing softer like he’s asking a favor, “Don’t you think it’s still way too early?”

Oikawa blinks against those sweet, pleading eyes, and to be truthful, if it wasn’t Futakuchi who adorned this role, Oikawa would have done it. So he turns back to his chill attitude, enjoying the view and the mood.

He nods at Futakuchi, giving him the permission he asked for, and they both smile at their combined decision.

“Let’s leave after dinner.” Oikawa suggests as he pours himself some wine.

He glances at Futakuchi enthusiastically, reaching out his bottle for a gesture of cheers, and with a glad smile, Futakuchi bumps his can against Oikawa’s bottle, saying, “Okay. Let’s do that.”

Then they simultaneously bring each of their cups towards their lips, Oikawa tilts his heads upwards at the same time Futakuchi does. He closes his eyes and drinks as much as he’s able to. When he opens his eyes, he feels euphoria in the back of his mind, a rush of heat towards his cheeks, and an electrifying feeling in his chest.

_ The wine’s nice _ .

They continue like that, and then twilight soon comes as the sun dips below the horizon, scattering its rays through the refraction of the atmosphere, enveloping the skies in a soft, glowing light. It grows darker into dusk as the sunset proceeds to arrive, introducing the night skies full of clouds.

—

Futakuchi warned him that the umeshu is a dirty ass traitor, and that it’s a sly snake who shouldn’t be thought of as non-poisonous just because it’s sweet, but as his eye doctor says, he’s hardheaded. Oikawa can handle his booze just fine, but now he is way too self aware that he’s more tipsy than Futakuchi who had three cans of beer and some shots of umeshu.

Oikawa’s not exactly drunk. He can feel the chemicals messing with his system now, but a good hot soup can take it away immediately. They roamed around the place for a little while until they saw a Shabu Shabu restaurant. Oikawa salivates as the thought of thinly sliced beef, swiftly dipped into the hot soup, and when you eat it, it just melts in your mouth. He wants to go in, but he hesitates when he notices that the place looks kind of bougie, and it might not be in his budget again so he says that they go find somewhere else.

“Oikawa-san, we happen to stumble upon a promising hot pot restaurant and you’re telling me to just walk away? No, you can’t make me.” Futakuchi stiffly says, standing his ground near the restaurant’s entrance with his arms crossed against his chest, eyes closed, just like how jiichan forbids him from hoarding sour gummies.

He also wants to go in to be honest, but he doesn’t want to burden Futakuchi financially anymore. If he just knew he’d be on this kind of trip, he wouldn’t have just brought enough money for his contact lenses, travel expenses, and a fair amount of emergency money in case something unanticipated occurs. He didn’t anticipate this much though.

“If you insist on paying me back, you can always buy me sour gummies anytime so I can get more than jiichan would let me. It’s the only payment I would accept.” Futakuchi says with a mischievous smile while he’s pushing Oikawa towards the door.

He’s wholeheartedly against the idea, but his stomach is not, and it won his other muscles over despite the heart supplying oxygen 24/7 to them. Oikawa thinks his organs are heartphobic.

It isn’t a bad decision though because the ambiance of the Shabu Shabu place immediately made them feel comfortable and warm, and the soup, meat, vegetables they served were quality ingredients. They had one sip of the hot soup and they both knew their buzz from the alcohol would be gone in a matter of minutes, so they ate happily and lavishly.

—

They told themselves they weren’t going to eat that they’d feel too full. They said they’re going to walk out as people who are just not starving anymore, not with satiated bellies, because if they did, they might vomit later on the road.

In the end, they didn’t follow the rules they’ve set on their own.

“Oh, god. Walking is already giving me motion sickness.” Oikawa says as they slowly trot their way towards the parking lot, then he tiredly exhales, “I think I’m going to hurl.”

“Same. I ate too much that I think my blood pressure is rising.” Futakuchi responds back with the same tired energy Oikawa has.

“That may just be the disappointment with yourself flowing in your veins and arteries.” Oikawa says, waving a finger to prove his point, “Is your heart heavy?”

Futakuchi acts like it really is with a childlike sad face, “Yes, it is.”

Oikawa nods like a dignified lawyer that just proved something, then he breaks character as he puts his hands into his coat’s pockets weakly, feeling the coming chill of the evening _. _

They came close to the parking lot’s entrance when Futakuchi spoke, “Oikawa-san, do you want to, maybe, rest at the beach for another while?”

Oikawa faces him as they walk towards the car, then he thinks about it and sees nothing wrong about doing it. In fact, it would do them a lot better, so he looks at his own watch and looks at the time, “Mm. It’s only 8pm, so sure.”

Futakuchi nods, pressing a button on his transponder as they get in the range, “Let’s just get the supplies.”

Once the trunk opens, Oikawa takes the blanket they used earlier. Futakuchi was about to grab the whole mini cooler again but Oikawa slaps his hands away, scolding that they aren’t going to drink anymore. Futakuchi apologizes and says he just forgot about it, and takes a canned coffee and a sports drink they have put inside instead. He offers the coffee to Oikawa, and he laughs when the older stares him down like he’s a bug, so he hands him the energy drink.

“Now, for our illumination.” Futakuchi says with a proud voice. Oikawa was practicing his poker face in case Futakuchi made a joke about him being their light source because he’s a star or whatever, because in this scenario it would have been his kind of joke.

“Ta-da!” Futakuchi excitedly presents as he takes it out of his backpack, “It was a school project.”

Oikawa... was impressed that Futakuchi really is a boy scout, ready for anything, but he won’t say that out loud. So he just stares at the pure white rectangular lamp with a candle inside which Futakuchi was holding.

“It’s handmade. I cut the wood I used, then I made that stabling vine thingy made out of steel wires around the candle’s glass, and I also made the candle. Everything’s done by me.” Futakuchi states, looking proud of himself and the project he made like it’s his baby.

“The project was to make an emergency light source, and maybe they wanted us to make our own electronic light or something but I thought fire is easier to make than a spare battery so I went with the basics.” Futakuchi, still into what he’s talking about, says in a cute pout. Then he adds, “This is like the backup of backups because once the lights running on battery run out, this baby would come in handy.”

_ Nerd _ . Oikawa wants to say, but he didn’t want to interrupt Futakuchi’s rambles about something he’s passionate and proud of. The kid is naturally dazzling speaking like that, just focused on what makes him happy with himself.

While lighting the candle wick with a match, Futakuchi continues the product introduction, “I always have a lighter and matchsticks with me so a light source would never be a problem for me. I even fortified its pillars with steel ones to back them up so it won’t break easily.”

The fire catches onto the wick, and it flickers once, illuminating the traces of Futakuchi’s beautiful handiwork. It was simple, but its minimalism made it more beautiful. The fact that something so normal was made to look like quality is a talent, and it would seem Futakuchi has such talent.

“It’s beautiful.” Oikawa compliments with a soft smile on his face, looking at the dancing flame inside. The top portion of the candle melts under the flame, and suddenly Oikawa can smell a mix of herbs and flowers. He smiles wider when he says, “A scented candle?”

Futakuchi blushes when he asks it, and he shyly confirms it with a nod, “Thought it would be nice to have something to calm me down if I’m out camping or trying to survive.”

“It’s a nice touch.” Oikawa assures Futakuchi with a smile. In fact, Oikawa loves it very much, and Futakuchi seemed pleased about it.

“Thanks.” The younger says with a cute smile, and Oikawa felt the urge to pat his head and praise him like he would to a kid but he stopped himself before he embarrassed both of them.

—

They went back to the beach and set the blanket down on the sand. Futakuchi placed the lamp near the top central part of the blanket while Oikawa was the first to lie down on one side. Futakuchi followed after, occupying the other side that was left empty, and then they both looked up at the starry night sky. Oikawa took notice that the skies were bare and laid open at this time of the night. It was as if the clouds from earlier were swept away cleanly, presenting the twinkling stars along with the brightly shining half moon. Oikawa breathes in the ocean air, finding the clear sky astonishing, and more so when it’s a sight to have experienced with a hint of the scented candle’s therapeutic aroma.

Oikawa says in his thoughts— _ it’s quite romantic, if you think about it _ .

Amongst the serenity of the atmosphere, Oikawa hears a voice beside him, a little close, but not too much.

“The moon is in its third and last quarter.” Futakuchi softly mutters, a forlorn emotion hinted by the tone of his voice, “It’s going to be gone soon.”

Oikawa fixes his gaze at the moon, then he says in a silly manner to counter Futakuchi’s serious tone, “Do you have to sound so dejected when it’s going to come back, anyway?”

Oikawa then looks at the man beside him to see his expression, and the kindling of the candle’s flame shines upon his profile, painting it in a faint red and yellow light. The other smiles as he shakes his head, saying, “In the moment when you’re aware that it’s about to leave, I think it psychologically makes it more endearing because it makes you want the present to last a little longer.”

Futakuchi chuckles, adding, “It makes you appreciate it more because you’re never sure what it would be like the next time it comes back.”

Oikawa stays silent for a moment, saving his energy and not entertaining the  _ deep shit talk _ Futakuchi was serving to the table. He was hoping for Futakuchi to run his mouth about something different, but he doesn’t so Oikawa sighs and says, “Don’t you think it’s at this hour and this kind of conversation that we need to be drunk?”

“Then we should—“

“No. You’re driving.”

“I can get us two rooms in the reso—“

“No. I don’t want you to pay for anything anymore.” Oikawa says with low energy, and when he sees Futakuchi opening his mouth again he uses his last bits of energy in shooting him a glare to shut him up.

“Futakuchi-chan, since I can only pay you back by buying you sour gummies, I wouldn’t want to put myself in a bigger debt than I can pay you.” Oikawa adds, his voice slowly getting serious.

He’s about to tell Futakuchi something he hasn’t even told his friends yet, and it is precisely why he wants to have alcohol in his system, for added bravery or for at least having something to blame on later.

“What? I don’t get it.” Futakuchi says, sounding iffy about how Oikawa was talking.

Oikawa inhales deeply through his nose and exhales with a blow from his mouth. He does it one more time but gentler, and then he speaks, “I’m leaving after graduation.”

Futakuchi doesn’t react, as if it wasn’t anything new, because it  _ is _ nothing new. It’s normal to leave your old town for somewhere better to work, study or, in Oikawa’s probable case, professionally play volleyball.

So with a straight face, Oikawa says, “I’m leaving Japan to train somewhere else.”

It felt off when the words left his mouth. It’s like he felt it become real right after it passed his lips. Keeping that fact away from everyone for so long was just him living as if it isn’t true, but now that he had verbally said it out loud, it makes Oikawa’s insides shudder with a tremendous amount of anxiety.

Then the first reaction he got was Futakuchi’s lips parting in a soft  _ ah _ .

“I get it now.” Futakuchi says, sounding like he’s smiling, so Oikawa looks at him and sees him looking right back, a proud smile on his face, “I’m happy for you. I wish for your successful training.”

Futakuchi looked at him with such confidence in Oikawa's decision, and it felt grounding. As if he was being pillared together with his choice of living. When he feels the awkwardness settling in his nerves, Oikawa looks away, and he overthinks about how Futakuchi looked so genuinely happy for him and his dreams when he knows nothing about Oikawa’s past. It’s strange that, without question, Futakuchi simply smiled at him and wished him success.

“I can feel you thinking. What is it?” Futakuchi says in a tone that doesn’t demand for you to answer, that it’s alright if the inquiry gets pushed off the table, but Oikawa’s honest, and even more so tonight. Something about the mood just tells him it’s okay to open up for a bit, just like how Futakuchi did.

“Don’t think it’s weird, but, uh, let’s compare my life that you have observed so far to one moon cycle. You got to know me in the third quarter, but the first few phases of it were ugly. Even when I was at full display, it didn’t feel like the sun was blessing me enough.” Oikawa nervously stutters as he prattles about his thoughts, hoping his words and comparison were making sense, then he adds, “The other half of me, I think is better hidden like that as I simply, you know, fade away. So... uhm... do I make sense to you?”

He sees Futakuchi turn his head towards him with an impatient look on his face, “What? Are you scared that I’m concerned about what that ‘dark’ side of you is?”

Oikawa scurries minimally away from Futakuchi’s eyes that seem to be able to read him like an open book, feeling insecure in his skin, “Yeah. I was thinking what if you knew the things I did before or knew my history,” Oikawa gulps, blinking at nothing, then he finishes the inquiry, “Would you go along with someone like me?”

“You have your hands closed with your thumb in between your pointing and middle finger. Are you that anxious of what I’m going to answer?” Futakuchi instantly says with a slight chuckle, and Oikawa looks at his hands which he unconsciously formed in the way Futakuchi described. Then Futakuchi adds, “I’ve noticed it for a while now. Is it your nervous tic?”

Oikawa frowns, feeling smaller because it feels like his insecurities and coping habits were being ridiculed. With a weak voice he answers, “It’s the first time I was made aware that I was doing it.”

“Oh, really?” Futakuchi says with a lighthearted voice as he turns away from Oikawa, then he continues, “Well, you can relax your hand now because it doesn’t matter to me. Just like the moon, whether it’s full, quarter, gibbous or crescent, it’s still the goddamn moon. Right now it looks beautiful to me, and I wouldn’t care about the past phases of it because what I’m seeing at this moment is what matters to me.”

There is a slight pause, and he feels Futakuchi’s stare on him again, goosebumps crawling on his skin when he hears, “So, yes. I would go along with someone like you.”

Oikawa swallows, and he takes some deep breaths to compose himself. Futakuchi is a whirlwind of emotions. He takes you high and then he leaves you to fall back down rapidly. He’s sensitive, and then the next second it would seem like he’s being insensitive but it would be for a good purpose.

Oikawa wanted to answer, but he doesn’t know what he wanted to say, and there is a persistent melody ringing inside his head. So instead of using words, he whistles a 10 second tune instead. What surprises him is that after his part, Futakuchi whistles the same exact one perfectly.

Once the whistling stopped, Oikawa deadpans at Futakuchi, “ _ Please _ tell me you know the song.”

Futakuchi raises a brow, then he scoffs, “Young folks by Peter, Bjorn and John. Why?”

“Because I’d be fucking mad if you only heard it from me for the first time and then whistled it better than I did.” Oikawa pouts, finally going back to the groove they had before as just two little shits hanging around.

“Uh huh. I’ve noted you were out of tune in some notes. Shame.” Futakuchi teases with a smirk, also back to his default foolish mode, and they laugh together.

Young folks was the song Oikawa was translating from English to Japanese. The lyrics seemed too perfect to describe the situation that just happened, which amused Oikawa because he had hoped before to meet somebody that would accept him despite hiding the skeletons in his closet, just like how the guy in the song did. He doesn’t really need the romance part of it, simply having a friend that would is already a dream come true for him.

He wants to leave those bones in the past, buried deep in his new set of wardrobe. He might pick it out bit by bit and show it off in the future, but only when he doesn’t get scared at the sight of it anymore.

For now, this will do. Until then, this will do.

They were silent after that. It was only the lulling sound of the waves, the flickering candlelight, the sparkling stars and the luminescent moon in wondrous harmony accompanying them. Oikawa stealthily lowers his eyes down and turns his face towards Futakuchi, taking another glance at the other, but he sees his eyes closed, a peaceful look on his face.

“Are you sleeping?” Oikawa asks in a low volume, not wanting to interrupt the younger’s rest. When he gets no answer, he smiles, feeling relieved.

Oikawa tells himself that he only feels like that because he didn’t want Futakuchi to drive recklessly as a person that drank without having a good rest. Though they both were now totally sober, Oikawa tells himself they still need to stay here a bit more than do something risky. Oikawa convinces himself that it’s not because he’s wishing to spend more time with Futakuchi, but because letting his driver sleep, and not wanting him to wake up so soon is only for his own safety.

_ But really, thank god, he didn’t drink his canned coffee _ .

—

__

Minutes after 10pm when Oikawa heard rustling from the other side of the blanket, he turns his head away from his phone and silently observes as Futakuchi blinks his eyes awake. He must have realized he had fallen asleep, so the first thing he said was, “What time is it? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Oikawa shrugs, looking back on his screen and deciding to not pay attention on the demanding tone in Futakuchi’s voice, “It’s 10:48pm. You looked like you needed rest.”

“You let me sleep for more than two hours?” Futakuchi grumbles, as if it was wrong of Oikawa to do so.

Oikawa tiredly closes his eyes as he exhales, then he opens it to give Futakuchi a stare as a warning, “Since you woke up  _ cranky _ , I think you need more.”

He can see that the younger was scowling, but it fades away with an apologetic sigh as he sits up, “Okay. I’m sorry. We ate so much and the atmosphere was calming so I fell asleep. I just didn’t like the fact that I left you alone for that long.”

Oikawa sits up as well, scooting closer to Futakuchi and reaches his hand that was holding his phone out to let the other see, “It’s okay, you look cute while asleep.”

“Ha.” Futakuchi huffs, unamused as he looks at the picture Oikawa took of his sleeping face, “You think that’s funny?”

“You look kinder when you’re unaware of your surroundings. By the way, I borrowed your power bank because games drain my battery so fast.” Oikawa teehees sarcastically, turning off the screen of his phone and putting it inside his pocket along with the powerbank he took from Futakuchi’s miracle backpack.

“Borrowed it? Without permission? Well, whatever.” Futakuchi says as he stands up and stretches from not having moved for a while.

Oikawa follows and dusts himself off of the possible sand that got on his clothes as well, and then he pulls his coat tighter around his body, suddenly shuddering against the night air. He looks at Futakuchi who was still stretching, and with a defeated voice he asks, “How can you survive in this weather with just a shirt on?”

Futakuchi faces him with a raised brow, then winks at him, “Hot people don’t get bothered with the cold.”

Then as if on cue, a strong breeze brushes past them and Futakuchi sniffles as he puts his hands in his pockets, still trying to look cool even if Oikawa had finally taken notice of his nose and ears which were all flushed pink. He says with a silly voice and smile, “Actually, I only woke up because I felt so fucking cold.”

Then he stiffly points towards the parking lot with his upper body, a humble smile on his face as he says, “You mind if we briskly walk— no, i mean run. You mind if we run to the car?”

—

“Ah. Finally, a heater.” Futakuchi says as they got comfortable inside the car, rubbing his arms up and down for friction to gain heat.

“Since  _ hot _ people aren’t like Elsa, why did you go out in such an outfit? Aren’t you aware of the seasons?” Oikawa says in a mocking manner, leaning back on the leather seat for a better position.

“I’m going to ignore the fact that your tone sounded like you are disagreeing that I am hot, but to answer the question, I didn’t know I’ll be staying out for this long even after sundown.” Futakuchi stoutly says as he smoothly drives in reverse to get the car out of the parking slot, then with a shocked and appalled voice, he asks, “Also, you’ve watched Frozen already?”

“I heard it from the little girls at Lil Tykes Volleyball Classroom.” Oikawa says, cutting off Futakuchi’s stare that seemed to call him immature.

Then Futakuchi shows him a disgusted look, responding with a tone that sounds accusing, “That sounds worse.”

Oikawa feels a vein pop and a coming aneurysm so he hits the younger’s head with his knuckles and says, “My nephew goes there, and I  _ coach _ them sometimes, you magnanimous  _ shitty _ idiot.”

Futakuchi rubs the part where Oikawa hit him, and his expression seemed like he wanted to say something about the violence, but he paid for the parking fee first before he gives his attention back to Oikawa again, asking, “You coach kids?”

Defensively, Oikawa crosses his arms with his chin held high, “Yes. Why?”

Futakuchi makes a swift sideway glance at Oikawa, and utters softly, “I think it’s cute.”

Oikawa, honestly, felt very flustered, but he wanted to play the cool guy so Oikawa pretended he didn’t hear it well, saying, “Ha? What’d cha say?”

“Nothing.” Futakuchi hurriedly denies the request to rewind his words, just as Oikawa had hoped he’d do, thankful that Futakuchi isn’t a very confident gay at this moment unlike hours ago.

Then Futakuchi points at the glove compartment in front of the passenger seat, “Can you pass me some candy?”

Oikawa makes a face at that, knowing full well that the other is simply escaping to a different topic. He reaches for the handle as he says, “You’ve got sour gummies in here too?”

The compartment lock clicks open, and instead of a hoard of sour gummies, it contains a small bag that Oikawa thinks houses some other essentials, a bottle of mint chewing gum, four bottles of mint candy, and some other mint products. There were three sour candy packs in there but Futakuchi pointed at the green metal container of mint instead.

“Mints?” Oikawa wonders as he takes out one metal container, but it was empty so he grabs another one that was heavier and made clinking noises.

“Can you tap out two pieces for me?” Futakuchi asks nicely, his palm out for Oikawa to put the candies on, so he obeys and gives him two, which the younger pops into his mouth the moment it falls onto his hand. The smell of menthol quickly spread out in the closed space of the vehicle, and it was the same exact minty smell from before. It gave him nostalgia, but also something to worry about. He flashbacks to the time Futakuchi smelled like menthol instead of sour gummies like he had thought he would.

Oikawa tried to mask away his concern, but his voice still sounded hesitant when he asked, “You’re not a smoker, are you?”

“Ha! No!” Futakuchi instantly denies and Oikawa feels his lungs expand with ease.

“My mom was.” Futakuchi adds thereafter, catching Oikawa off guard with an unreadable smile on his face, “Though she said she’s already obsessed with mints because she’s scared of bad breath even before she smoked, so we still have a stack of it everywhere even after she quit.”

“Ah. I see.” Oikawa says, again, not knowing what to say, so he also takes two pieces of mint then puts it in his mouth because one, he has nothing to do, two, he likes the taste of mint too, and three, his breath must smell like alcohol and two hours of not speaking.

“Our dentist’s actually pissed at the two of us since we have issues on our gums due to brushing too hard because we’re sort of paranoid. She didn’t want yellow teeth due to cigarettes, and I didn’t want rotten teeth caused by my sour gummy stress eating habit.” Futakuchi laughs, like the whole thing is absurd, “Mint candies still have sugar in them and is still kinda bad for our teeth, and we’re also a bit caffeine dependent, so I’m not sure how we’ve been keeping our mouths healthy to be honest.”

Oikawa sighs. There is a thought bugging him but he doesn’t know how to ask it, if he even has the right to ask, or if he would get an honest answer after he gets to ask it.

“What is it? You’re always so talkative and straightforward so why are you not saying anything right now?” Futakuchi says monotonously, showing Oikawa that he’s unbothered and that Oikawa shouldn’t give too much time in thinking about whatever it is.

“Well, I wanted to ask...” Oikawa starts, and Futakuchi doesn’t show signs of rejecting it so he continues, “If you’re going to be dependent on nicotine too together with getting blacked out drunk once you’re 20.”

Futakuchi runs his hand through his hair as he chuckles while he shakes his head, staring at the road ahead. Oikawa can see toughness in his eyes as he says, “No. I don’t think that’s fair to do to my mom.”

Oikawa smiles, relief and fondness swelling inside his chest, “You’re a very kind son, aren’t you?”

Futakuchi only smiles at him with a shrug, and Oikawa takes the opportunity to look out towards the ocean one last time as they leave it behind, suppressing down thoughts he knows he shouldn’t have, but banking on the memories he knows he could bring along with him.

“Oh.” Futakuchi grunts shortly, and Oikawa cranes his neck to where he’s pointing, which is the clock provided by the car’s screen, “How long has it been 11:11pm? Quick, make a wish.”

Oikawa tilts his head, unbelieving that such a time was something ought to be a moment to pray for wishes, as if he was being given this one chance by the universe itself.

He places his elbow on top of the car door’s protruded edge and then leans his cheek on his fist, saying out loud, “I wish...”

Futakuchi looked like he didn’t expect Oikawa to blurt his wishes verbally, so he watches amusedly as Oikawa drawls out his list of requests.

“I wish that we get home safely.” He starts, and it urges an agreeing nod from Futakuchi.

“I wish that you stop being an asshole someday.” Oikawa adds, and Futakuchi laughs with a scoff, but he only continues to listen.

“I also wish we get to achieve the things we want to achieve.” He says, sounding a bit serious, then his eyes lower down to his hands.

He smiles at himself pathetically when he sees that he has his thumb in between his pointing and middle finger, quite irked that he was made aware of his habit.

“I wish...” Oikawa means to say a fourth and last wish, but he falters, and the fleeting minute has already passed.

“It’s already 11:12. Did you at least get to say that last wish inside your head?” Futakuchi curiously asks with an easy tone, obviously treating the superstitious time of 11:11 as something just for fun.

Why did Oikawa treat something so shallow as if it was of any real significance?

“I said my wishes in my head since you were saying them verbally and some of them were that you stay safe wherever you’re going and hopefully your destination leads you to the answer you’re hoping to meet.” Futakuchi comfortably declares, and it perplexes Oikawa, because this kid treated such nonsense deeply to pray for something meaningful.

It comforts Oikawa, because he thought he was being childish when he surrendered his fate on mere repeating numbers on the clock, but it wasn’t just him.

“It’s just a trend, but I always make a wish when I see 11:11 on the clock. I even get frustrated sometimes when I look forward to it and then miss it because I got preoccupied with something.”

Oikawa finds himself laughing at Futakuchi’s storytelling about his 11:11 experiences and how most of them did come true. Then he theorizes that somebody out there is wishing for all the wishes made at 11:11 to not come true, and he speaks some more so Oikawa nods and reacts when it’s proper, but in reality, he’s paying a lot of attention to the song about to end which was playing through the car stereo.

It was Blue Flame by Alice Nine, and its second chorus was Oikawa’s last 11:11 wish.

—

Futakuchi persisted to bring Oikawa right in front of his house because it would be in his conscience if anything stupid happened to Oikawa, and he easily won with his youthful stubbornness, saying that he won’t get caught by police and if he does get caught, he’d be able to bailout. So then he dropped Oikawa right in front of their gates, and drove off once Oikawa got inside the premises of his house.

He watches as it disappears into the driveway, then he takes his key out of his bag and unlocks the front door, not having to creatively sneak back into his bedroom because he got permission from his parents that he would be out for long.

Oikawa isn’t tired at all when he takes off his shoe at the entrance, but when he faces the stairs so he can get to the second floor, his body suddenly gets heavier and it takes some mental energy to bring his ass up instead of just crashing it into the couch.

He‘s able to get inside his room without tripping in the dark, then he turns on his bedside lamp and tosses his coat, bag and pants towards his bed, heading straight towards the bathroom right after to brush his teeth and quickly wash his face. He felt refreshed and awake after it, and slightly regretted he did it since he might not be able to sleep immediately because of it, but just like Futakuchi and his mom, he would hate to have bad teeth.

He grabs his bag and rummages through its contents to look for his phone, feeling the need to check his online life. He feels a panic building up when he already had rummaged through his bag but he can’t seem to find his phone. He was already backtracking where he might have left it — Futakuchi’s car, at the beach, at the Shabu Shabu restaurant— _ ah _ , hell, he’s still a responsible person because he has it inside his bag.

Oikawa collapses down onto his bed, moaning at the touch of soft mattresses and bouncy bed foam, appreciating it more when he compares it to the gritty feeling of sand under a cloth which he tolerated for hours. Though, honestly, the latter wasn’t all that uncomfortable, and it was a fun experience.

Oikawa opens his phone and decides to message the captain of today’s venture. He hits send and lays the gadget down on his side table. He was sure he could wait for Futakuchi’s reply, but once his phone quacked after some minutes, Oikawa was already deep into his sleep cycle, and he would not see his notifications until the afternoon of the next day.

—

**To: Futakuchi-chan**

_ 00:49 _

Thanks for dating me. Drive home safely and don’t attract the police, you delinquent. <3

**From: Futakuchi-chan**

_ 1:11 _

anytime. and i got home with no sweat, don’t worry.

_ 1:23 _

good night, oikawa-san.

—

Oikawa wakes up from a sleep without a dream, and it felt  _ fucking _ pleasant. It has been a long time since he felt this revitalized from waking up, his body and mind simply resting and not thinking at all. He stretches with a jolly smile on his face, thinking that it is such a beautiful morning.

Until he saw the clock that said 12:23pm.

It makes Oikawa jolt upright on his bed, awakening his senses and heightening his awareness in a snap.

It’s already afternoon. A rare occurrence that he, Oikawa Tooru, slept past breakfast or brunch. For once in his highschool days, he had  _ good fucking sleep _ .

It’s not a beautiful morning. It’s now a beautiful afternoon.

He reaches for his phone and checks his messages, seeing notifications from his coach, his mentor, Iwaizumi, Hanamaki, and lastly, Futakuchi.

He decides to reply to the oldest one first, his day already feeling perfect.

—

**To: Futakuchi-chan**

_ 12:26 _

Good morning. I slept well, thank you for that.

**From: Futakuchi-chan**

_ 12:29 _

so letting you live in your own fantasy really did help you sleep at night, huh? good for you.

**To: Futakuchi-chan**

_ 12:30 _

Bitch. I’ll block you.

**From: Futakuchi-chan**

_ 12:30 _

do it or i will.

**To: Futakuchi-chan**

_ 12:30 _

Wait, it was a fucking joke.

—

Oikawa’s holidays almost passed by normally.

Like it always does, single people spent the 25th of December with their family or on group dates, and then couples flirted on the streets. Of course, since he’s single, he was invited to some group dates but he rejected all of them because his family and Iwaizumi's had a joint celebratory dinner for Christmas. Oikawa and Iwaizumi exchanged gifts, then just like always, it's something stupid like neon colored briefs and ugly socks. Even if this continuous theme they randomly followed like an unspoken rule for gifts was supposed to be for laughs, the two of them actually use the crap they give to each other because they're that appreciative of one another.

On New Year, it was a little different because the visit to the temple was done with his third year friends, and they even exchanged some small gifts since it might be their last chance for a long period of time. Once the topic veered towards what their plans would be when highschool ends in a matter of months, Oikawa thought that it might truly be the right time to finally announce his as well. He has been thinking how to open up about it, but the opportunity presented itself.

“Hey, everyone.” Oikawa calls out softly, like he’s giving them a chance to ignore him, but all their eyes were on him immediately, and he knew he should say it now.

He hides his nervous hands behind his back, scared to share his plan, so with a shy voice, he tried to state determinedly that, “I’m going to train in Argentina under José Blanco.”

He licks his lips and stammers out, “I mean, continue training under him there because I’ve been in his care for the past few months, and you know, he’s helped me a lot in my volleyball career.”

Oikawa takes a breath after running his mouth, and then he finishes his announcement, saying, “I want to learn more from him, so I’ll be going there with him. I’m sorry for only telling you all this just now.”

All of them simply stared blankly at him for some seconds, so he looked for Iwaizumi, Hanamaki and Matsukawa to at least get them to react differently. When he catches sight of one of the three, it was Iwaizumi punching him playfully on the stomach with a proud smile, joy in his voice as he says, “A bold move, Shittykawa!”

“We knew you were crazy, but right after graduating?” Hanamaki adds as he slings his arm on top of Oikawa’s shoulders.

“You never fail to bamboozle us.” Matsukawa says as he slowly claps beside Hanamaki, like Oikawa is his kind of entertainment.

“Was this the bitchass cloud hanging over you these past few months? Stupid, you should’ve just told me.” Iwaizumi says, clutching his shoulder tight, his lips in a tight smile like he was forcing himself not to cry, then he says, “I won’t age faster once you’re gone. This is good news.”

Oikawa chokes at the statement while the others bursted out laughing. Then he looks around to see his third year comrades again, and they all look back at him like they’re glad for him, again feeling proud of his short lived title of captaincy which made him lead these people. He trusts them, and it looks like they trust him back just as much.

They start to shoot phrases about supporting his dreams and that they would send love to him from Japan whenever he feels lonely, and it was all so wholesome that it moves Oikawa to tears.

He can’t understand the situation well anymore, but he knows he feels overwhelmed, so he just cries as Iwaizumi shakes his whole body playfully in order to hopefully stop him from wailing, but Iwaizumi’s harmful way of making Oikawa calm down didn’t work, so the others started to pile up in a big group hug, and to the exact opposite of their goal, Oikawa cried harder.

With puffy and swollen eyes, he went home, but he smiled with a light heart from the comforting warmth of the hug from his friends.

—

**_01 January_ **

**To: Futakuchi-chan**

_ 00:03 _

Happy new year! I hope you finally stop being hot and cold!

**From: Futakuchi-chan**

_ 00:58 _

happy new year. and btw, you’ve asked me before if you should tell your team that you’re leaving. i think you should do that now. you mentioned that you’re going to the temple with some of them later, didn’t you? so i hope you get the courage to be able to say it today because it would only get harder if you keep it a secret any longer. especially to iwaizumi-san.

_ 00:59 _

good luck, oikawa-san. i’ll pray for your safety and happiness.

**To: Futakuchi-chan**

_ 16:03 _

I told them. Thank you for your encouragement. I also pray for your health and happiness, Futakuchi-chan.

—

The month of January passed by like a blur, and suddenly February feels so, so, so slow. Like a bad, slow boiling novella without concretely showing that it would end with an actual burn.

One unusual thing that happened recently which roused at least some entertainment was when Matsukawa approached him and asked for his company, then he got dragged against his will to go shopping. As he realizes what they were venturing for, it registers that they were still in the early part of the month since stores and shops have only started to hang displays and decorations using reds, pinks, everything in between of those two colors and more, but most importantly, heart decors.

_ Valentine’s day _ . That’s the craze, but to Oikawa, it’s just a reminder that they haven’t even passed the half part of the month yet.

“Mattsun, why are you shopping for chocolates? It’s February, not March.” Oikawa says indifferently as he lazily walks behind Matsukawa, tapping the packs of Valentine’s edition goods that Oikawa doesn’t really care about. He’d probably get a ton of these on the day itself, and honestly, he likes the attention since it feeds his ego, so he’s quite looking forward to it.

Matsukawa wiggles his shoulders which Oikawa can’t discern if it was a shrug or an act of showing childishness, then he says, “I don’t play by the social standards.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Oikawa nods and looks away, flapping his hands because as he always tells himself, his friends also have some screws loose just like him. Matsukawa especially, spouts some one liner bullshit like this all the time.

Oikawa surveys the sweets store with absolutely no interest at all, he would pay attention to it more in March, but then he spots a pack of sour gummies which are shaped and flavored as strawberries.

_ Oh. Futakuchi-chan would like that _ .

Jiichan’s store didn’t have those kinds of gummies so he walks towards it and grabs the pack to inspect it further. It turns out that the sour gummy addict is also a huge fan of strawberries as well, hence his team’s custom made decagon (his favorite shape) strawberry cake for his birthday. Oikawa found out about it because Futakuchi either orders coffee of strawberry frappe at the bakery slash cafe where they sometimes hang together mostly because of coincidences.

Oikawa agrees that the strawberry frappe tastes good, and the owner proudly informed them that the strawberry was from their own farm, so they can order lots of strawberry things in their bakery. Cinematically funny and stupid, the first thing Futakuchi ordered that wasn’t on the menu were fresh strawberries. Just plain fresh strawberries, and the teenager transformed into a baby who looks like they have just figured out what their most loved fruit is.

Now looking at the pack of strawberry gummies, Oikawa thinks it’s a bit too few for Futakuchi to enjoy or appreciate it because the guy’s a binge eater, so he checks the price and sees he can buy at least five packs of it without feeling like he’s being impulsively irrational. Then he gives himself a second to critically rethink what he’s doing.

Why was his initial thought of this product:  _ He’d like sour gummies more than chocolates as a Valentine’s gift, right _ ?

Why?

Oikawa drops the strawberry gummies back on its place and stomps away from it, swearing that he’d never buy those kinds of treats ever. Not for himself or anybody, especially in love month. Then he catches up to Matsukawa so he can think of anything else except the milk chocolate haired boy.

It feels like Matsukawa was his savior when the guy presented him a command to follow, “Help me find something pink.”

Pink is not associated with Futakuchi in whatsoever way, so being given an order that does not connect to that guy at all is a break for Oikawa.

He got the motivation to gaze at the products with intent now, ridding his mind of a boy and using all his focus in finding a pink treat. He finds a cute one and brings it up for Matsukawa to judge, obeying nicely, but he’s curious, then he asks, “Why pink though? Is it their favorite color?”

Matsukawa stops looking around to stare at Oikawa and his choice of a pink treat, then he answers, “No,” then he adds nonchalantly, “It just reminds me of his hair.”

Oikawa watches Matsukawa turn his back on him to walk away, still intently looking and picking up pink colored sweets and packagings to inspect. Oikawa knows he should feel shocked by the phrase, but it hasn’t fully clicked yet, and he’s not sure if he‘s ready to understand.

His brain repeats it for him, and he hears Matsukawa say it again.

_ It just reminds me of his hair _ .

Then in Oikawa’s head, it went by like a powerpoint presentation along with sample pictures: Matsukawa. Pink. Pink hair. Hanamaki.

Oikawa wanted to scream.

—

They bought the treats five days earlier than the event itself, so Oikawa has to clip his mouth tightly shut since Sunday until Matsukawa finally makes his move. Oikawa grilled Matsukawa for all the details from Monday to Thursday, pestering him to share how he knew he liked Hanamaki and what his plans on Valentine’s are, but the man was a tough nut to crack, though he did inform Oikawa that he might do the confession after classes.

It’s lunch now and Oikawa hopes he gets through their meal together silently and peacefully without spoiling it for Hanamaki who had been pining all alone for years, and at last, his love is finally about to be reciprocated.

“Hey.” Hanamaki says as he sits in front of Oikawa across the table. It seemed like he was blushing, and Oikawa was about to voice his concern if Hanamaki was feeling sick when the pink haired guy blushed harder and said, “Matsukawa just confessed to me.”

Oikawa, in the middle of the school canteen, screeched  _ loudly _ like he just experienced the worst betrayal anyone could ever think of. Of course, he grabs everyone’s attention.

“Hey!” Hanamaki scolded in a hushed voice while his hand covered Oikawa’s mouth, bowing in apology to those that got disturbed by Oikawa’s ugly scree, then he nags, “Can you stop being so extreme all the time?”

Oikawa breathed through his nose and nodded calmly, acting like he’s going to follow through, and when Hanamaki let go of his mouth, he shouted, “Matsukawa told me he’s going to confess after classes so I can witness—!!”

“Shut your mouth, will you?!” Hanamaki screams back this time, his hand back on Oikawa’s noisy mouth, again bowing to the people around them. Slowly, his brows furrow in confusion, “Wait, you knew about it?”

Oikawa raises his hands at the sides of his head in a gesture of defeat, and Hanamaki hardens his glare first before slowly freeing Oikawa’s lips. Then Oikawa breathed again to compose himself for real this time, saying, “Let’s explain the details later, but let me ask you. Why are you here? Shouldn’t you guys be in a corner somewhere, making out or something?”

The tips of Hanamaki’s ears become pink, and he slides a finger under his nose as he tries to cooly say with a pout, “We’ve already done that.”

“Wait, where? All the make out places must be occupied by the het couples so where did you guys—“

“Don’t ask.” Hanamaki says, his palm facing Oikawa as a stop sign, and most of the time, those kinds of things rile up Oikawa even more. Today though, since they should be celebrating Hanamaki’s pining having ended beautifully, he prioritizes making Hanamaki feel special instead of nosing around their relationship right away.

“Okay, since y’all done eating each other’s faces by now, where’s Mattsun?” Oikawa asks, looking around if the guy is anywhere in the canteen yet.

“He—“ Hanamaki chokes, and it catches Oikawa’s attention so he focuses back on his friend, eyes like a hawk. Hanamaki exaggeratedly clears his throat and says, “He’ll be here soon.”

“Oyyy! Makki!” An out of character Iwaizumi excitedly calls from two meters away, his arm on top of Matsukawa’s shoulders despite being smaller than the other.

_ Oh. Nice timing. _ Oikawa thought.

“Congrats on your relationship!” Iwaizumi silently adds once they got close enough, then he taps Matsukawa’s chest, saying, “I heard it from this guy when he finished brushing his teeth.”

“Thank you... Iwa.” Hanamaki nervously says, probably still not certain on how to act about his sexuality in front of others. Matsukawa seems to have no problem with it though, and Oikawa hopes he can influence his boyfriend positively with that attitude.

Even more, Oikawa was glad Iwaizumi already knew and that he seemed comfortable with it, plus it was Matsukawa that told him, someone who was ambiguous about everything until today.

Though, Oikawa thought there was something weird in that last part of what Iwaizumi said, so he spoke about it, “Mattsun, why did you brush your teeth already when we haven’t even eaten yet?”

Matsukawa blinks at him, so he blinks back, and then Iwaizumi bursts into a side splitting laughter while Hanamaki buries his tomato face into his palms. Oikawa blinks again, and the puzzle pieces fall into place.

Oikawa’s lips were in a tight straight line; no thoughts, head empty. Just Iwaizumi’s laugh in the background because Matsukawa and Hanamaki are truly two vigorous teenagers with raging hormones, living their youths to the fullest.

—

On the way home with Iwaizumi, Oikawa was still sulking about how Matsukawa betrayed him and confessed to Hanamaki without his presence.

He wanted to see how Hanamaki would go into gay panic, gathering data on how people feel or look like once they get into an actual relationship from a long standing pining.

Oikawa changes the topic in his head and finds the courage to give his best friend a chocolate.

The approach he decided on was made while they were walking, and he slapped a chocolate bar onto the other’s chest, saying, “Here. I bought this for you.”

Iwaizumi takes it, and Oikawa lets go, his face turned away to avoid his stare and avoid letting him see the warmth on his cheeks.

“Boys don’t usually give consolatory treats to their friends, don’t they?” Iwaizumi asks as he looks at what Oikawa gave him.

With a frown, Oikawa uses Matsukawa’s iconic one liner to answer that, “I don’t play by the social standards.”

Iwaizumi chuckles, then with a cheerful voice, he says, “Thanks, though. You know I love dark chocolate and almonds, huh?”

“Yeah,  _ duh _ . How would I not? You’re my best bud and I love you.” Oikawa grouchily says, shrugging because it felt like Iwaizumi was questioning his knowledge of him when he’s basically a walking autobiography book about Iwaizumi.

His best friend lightly shoves him and says, “What are you being bitchy about? I love you too, you know. I just don’t have anything to give you right now.”

“It feels weird hearing you become cheesy like that.” Oikawa says, pouting against the smile that is threatening to appear, trying to agitate his stomach acids to metabolize the butterflies in his gut faster.

“But if you do feel bad about not having anything for me, buy me some milkbread.” Oikawa jeers, punching Iwaizumi as a payback for his shove from earlier, and of course, he has some power over his best friend in a way as well.

Iwaizumi does buy him three rolls of milkbread. Even buying a bonus loaf of it so he can take it home to his family.

Oikawa was thankful, but while they were at the bakeshop, Oikawa's eyes were roaming around, seeking for something that shouldn’t matter a lot, but the strawberry gummies inside his bag begged to differ.

Though in the end, he didn’t see whatever it was he was looking for, and not even days after Valentine’s. Oikawa thinks it’s only right though. The universe must be showing him a sign, and it’s flashing him a bright red light, telling him to stop, even if it’s been there since the start. Oikawa just learned how to ignore it, but now it’s growing and he thinks that maybe it’s time to obey it again.

—

It’s a weekend, nearing the end of February, and Oikawa misses his friend so fuck the universe, fuck its will, fuck whatever it’s telling Oikawa, fuck the red lights — he’ll fucking text Futakuchi because he misses him.

**To: Futakuchi-chan**

_ 14:14 _

Hey, where u at?

Oikawa closes his phone right after seeing that the message got sent, and inserts it in his pocket, but even before an inch of it gets inside, he hears a quack of a duck so he pulls it out in a hurry and looks at the reply.

**From: Futakuchi-chan**

_ 14:15 _

thanking god i’m anywhere but near you.

Oikawa pouts at the message, feeling irked that the guy he’s unashamed to admit he is missing doesn’t miss him back, but it’s only natural. They don’t really message each other a lot to plan a meeting. They just bump into one another and decide whether or not they’re both in the mood to compete on who could ruin each other’s day more. Futakuchi sometimes texts Oikawa that he has 15 minutes because he’s going to pick him up, or that he has 15 minutes to get to a location because Futakuchi’s waiting for him there. Spontaneous shit, honestly, so now he’s going to try taking the initiative.

**To: Futakuchi-chan**

_ 14:15 _

Meanie. Anyway, want to coach some kids with me?

**From: Futakuchi-chan**

_ 14:16 _

i hate kids, oikawa-san.

**To: Futakuchi-chan**

_ 14:17 _

Then how about we play a game later at my house?

**From: Futakuchi-chan**

_ 14:17 _

okay, but only if we’re playing mario kart.

**To: Futakuchi-chan**

_ 14:17 _

Sure. You’ll just lose again anyway.

Oikawa was excited to completely destroy Futakuchi and his confidence in kart racing once again today. Last time when they played with Iwaizumi, Futakuchi played last even if the two of them joined forces to bring Oikawa down. Unfortunately for those hopeless racers, Oikawa’s just too good and lucky in this game.

—

“Ah! I lost again!” Futakuchi exclaims for the nth time that afternoon, and Oikawa still takes pleasure from it, because it keeps on making him very proud of his girl Peach.

“Has Iwaizumi-san ever beaten you yet?” Futakuchi asks, and it makes Oikawa snort.

“Yeah.” Oikawa nods, “Physically.” Then he laughs, remembering how cute the young Iwaizumi was when he gets mad that Oikawa is better than him in Mario Kart.

“You really like him, don’t you?” Futakuchi says with a grossed out tone, looking at Oikawa with eyes that judges anything related to love.

“What makes you think that? That makes you sound so unintelligent.” Oikawa snaps back, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms.

Futakuchi puts down the controller onto the floor and faces Oikawa, “Didn’t I tell you already? I’ve seen you two around the street market and the bus stop.”

“And what of it?” Oikawa raises a brow, wanting to prove Futakuchi’s point false despite it being the truth. He wears a steady expression that won’t be swayed by provocations and taunts, but Futakuchi didn’t seem bothered as he looked like he had all the evidence he needed to win the case.

“I used to tell Aone gossips about a closeted gay, helplessly pining for his oblivious best friend and possible childhood friend.” Futakuchi says slowly, like he’s telling somebody a juicy chatter, and Oikawa gulps, feeling nervous.

“When we played against each other last October, I pointed to you and introduced you as the closeted gay, helplessly pining for his best friend and possible childhood friend. Then I pointed to Iwaizumi-san and introduced him as the oblivious best friend and possible childhood friend.” Futakuchi continues, speaking in a tone like that of a lawyer in a drama, confident that they have the case fully suffocated inside the bag.

“You know what he told me after our match,  _ and _ your super intense match with Karasuno?” Futakuchi asks and pauses for the suspense, but Oikawa holds his palm out for a commercial break himself.

“Wait. He spoke?” Oikawa says, trying to process that the gentle giant uttered something about him and his best friend when he said nothing at all when they ate udon together with Futakuchi. He didn’t have to though, because Oikawa can read him, but not as well as Futakuchi, so he still needed some translation here and there.

“It triggered him to use his vocal chords because that’s how impactful you guys were!  _ Especially _ with that last toss!” Futakuchi shouts with his hands up, a little pissed that Oikawa tried changing the topic and that he’s still denying something so painfully obvious.

“Anyway, you know what he verbally fucking told me?” Futakuchi pauses again, then he swings his hands down like a conductor starting the orchestral show. Lowering his voice, deepening his tone, Futakuchi imitated how Aone spoke, “ _ Why aren’t they still together _ ?”

Oikawa is about to react but Futakuchi places his hands on his temporals and continues to rant, “And we still wonder about it until this day! I don’t want to say my theories because I don’t want to get kicked out of your house but—“

“I do love him.” Oikawa strongly says over Futakuchi’s voice, and it works well in shutting up the younger, so he adds, “I do, but it’s not that kind of love I have for him. I don’t need to be with him to take care of him, or to love him the way I want to. I’m already doing it even as his best friend.“

Oikawa sighs, not enjoying the topic, so he ends it with a joke, “And I think he’s straight as fuck.”

Saying that out loud, Oikawa realizes that even if Iwaizumi isn’t straight, it doesn’t really matter to him. He still wouldn’t want a relationship with him. It’s a different kind of love, one that doesn’t crave for kisses or more than what he has now. He’s content already, and he’s okay with that.

Futakuchi blankly stares at Oikawa for some seconds, then he nods and clicks his tongue, “You’re just as bad as I am with this shit called love.”

“Yeah. We are both awful at it.” Oikawa affirmatively nods back with a chuckle.

Then he stands up to grab the medium sized white paper bag on his study desk and throws it towards Futakuchi. The other receives it perfectly, as expected from a volleyball athlete, then Futakuchi confusedly asks, “What’s this for?”

“Nothing,” Oikawa starts, shrugging to make it look like it really meant nothing, then he adds, “Saw it in a store the other day and thought you’d like it since I have a debt to pay you.”

Futakuchi opens up the package, and the first thing he takes out is a small piece of a greeting card, and Oikawa realizes his mistake.

Futakuchi scoffs as he reads what was written on the card, then he looks up at Oikawa with his lips curved into a teasing smirk, saying, “You’re  _ really _ so bad at this shit.”

“Mm.” Oikawa nods again, admitting that he really is, and smiling before saying, “I know.”

—

Happy Valentine’s! Here are your favorites all in one package: strawberry, sour gummies, and my attention. You’re welcome!

  * Oikawa Tooru



—

March 14 is coming, and Oikawa has almost gone broke just so he can give back to the ladies that gifted him chocolates last month. He’s a gentleman, and he wouldn’t want to let down the girls that made an effort for him on Valentine’s.

On his way home from shopping for White Day, he craved for milk bread, so with heavy footsteps, and a tired body, he dragged himself to the bakeshop even if it meant carrying the paper bag full of chocolates for longer.

“Gramma. Good day!” Oikawa greets, trying to sound enthusiastic but his dismay in his current financial state lowers the energy he wanted to be in his voice.

“Ah!” Makoto shrieks, like he’s seen somebody he didn’t want to see, “Tooru-chan!”

Oikawa’s senses tingles, and it leads him to notice that Makoto looks like he’s hiding something behind his back. He was about to ask what it is when a different person says his name loudly.

“Tooru-kun!” His favorite grandma baker greets with a wide smile, clapping once to get his attention, so he gladly gives it to her, mirroring her smile. Then she asks, “May I know what your order is?”

Oikawa politely nods, then he says, “Bread rolls for takeout. Three of them.”

“Coming right up! Sit down if you want to.” Makoto exclaims with an awkward laugh, and Oikawa wanted to investigate the reason why but the lady prepared Oikawa’s three bread rolls so fast that there wasn’t any time to look or ask what’s behind her son.

Oikawa simply paid for the bread and then left, really confused why the mother and son were too eager to make him leave the shop when all they ever did before is to welcome him with open arms.

Or maybe they have finally realized that Oikawa is an 18 year old and they suddenly felt ashamed of themselves for still babying him whenever he visits them? That would be disappointing because he really liked being babied.

He hopes their slight hostility was just for today.

—

Oikawa’s White day was hectic, and his breaks were all about finding the girls he needs to repay for their sweetness from last month’s event. He’s glad he finished distributing the chocolates before class dismissal and that he didn’t forget or leave anyone out.

Iwaizumi went home earlier because his mom had some errands for him to do, and Matsukawa had other plans than having Hanamaki all for him at last ever since they got together, so Hanamaki and Oikawa got to chat again for a bit after classes at the park inside their school grounds.

They talked about Hanamaki’s transition from a gay man pining for his bestfriend, to a gay man in love and is in a relationship with his bestfriend. Hanamaki was blooming, and Oikawa is  _ so _ glad that Matsukawa had stopped being a flaccid dick to finally harden up and be Hanamaki’s man, not just his ‘bro no homo’ agenda. He has been so vague for too long, and it took a toll on Hanamaki, but as long as he’s able to make Hanamaki happy now, Oikawa is too, and he hopes he will do so for a very long time.

“So you guys are the fairy tale ending of best friends to lovers, huh?” Oikawa teases as he tickles Hanamaki, and the pink haired guy shoves him off.

“It hasn’t ended yet though, but yeah, we are the cheesy gay fiction which could have been easily solved with better communication. It’s a hundred times more entertaining than yours and Iwa.” Hanamaki says in a catty manner, obviously just trying to rile up Oikawa.

“You’re mean.” Oikawa pouts childishly, acting like he’s sulking.

“But that’s a lie. It‘s not like your story’s invalid, or bad, really.” Hanamaki immediately counters, his eyes focused like he’s thinking deeply, then he adds as he looks at Oikawa, “It’s just something for a different set of audience. It doesn’t have to fit in everyone else’s beliefs, or to convince the society. It’s simply just the way you do it, your own style.”

Oikawa squints at Hanamaki, saying, “What is this? Why are you spouting words that come off as wise but are actually nonsense right now? I’m supposed to be grilling you if your ass is still fucking virgin.”

They both giggle at that, but Hanamaki shakes his head and places a hand on Oikawa’s shoulder, still hasn’t moved on from the boring TED talk as he added, “Oikawa, don’t be bothered about other people. Don’t care about their style. Just do yours.”

Oikawa frowns, “I  _ know _ . Young folks a.k.a my favorite song is exactly just like what you said, so you don’t have to worry about me. Now answer me...” Oikawa pauses for emphasis and wiggles an eyebrow up and down as he asks, “Did you get some good dickin’ yet?”

Oikawa yelps when Hanamaki gave one hard knock on his skull, and he cowers as Hanamaki raises it again as he snarls while saying, “You’re so fucking vulgar. We’re in  _ public _ .”

“Says the guy who got  _ sucked _ in  _ public _ .” Oikawa retorts with a scandalous smile.

“Hush! Do you want me to start asking about your boy from Dateko?” Hanamaki threatens, but Oikawa doesn’t even get affected.

“Nothing to ask about him.” Oikawa yawns, side eyeing Hanamaki.

“Enemies to lovers trope kinda shit? I bet if you bottom for him, you’d ask him to choke, spank and shame you.” Hanamaki says, his voice sounding like he’s serious in talking trash about Oikawa in public.

Now that worries Oikawa a bit, so he puts his hands on top of Hanamaki’s forearms and says, “Okay, now you hush. That’s fucking bullshit.”

“Or maybe you prefer getting praised?”

“Hush!”

“ _ Mmn _ . Praise kink it is.”

—

After catching up with Hanamaki and learning about... about things Oikawa would eventually have to learn someday anyway, he went to the market street to again buy himself milk bread because a chaotic day with lots of results earns to be celebrated and awarded with something that would boost his mood right up.

Right in the moment when he smelled the freshly baked bread coming from the bakeshop, his heart already feels lighter, feeling the comfort of the simple familiarity of the street and the store facades.

Earlier, Futakuchi asked him where he was and he replied with the same line Futakuchi texted him when their roles were reversed: ‘ _ Thanking god that I’m anywhere but near you _ ’., but he texted right after that he’s on his way to the bakery. Sometimes, he’s the bigger person in their rivalry slash friendship.

He didn’t receive a reply back which urged him to take a quick look inside jiichan’s store, thinking that maybe Futakuchi was somewhere there. He didn’t see the youngster inside the shop though, and jiichan had some customers, so even if he wanted to come say hello, he decided not to because he didn’t want to interrupt his business.

He steps into the bakery’s perspective, and he was astonished at the view he saw inside. There were some customers seated at the right side, and behind the counter was Makoto who is smiling like a fool, grandma baker who is commanding someone how to use the piping bag properly, and lastly, the most astounding detail of this scene is the guy in a green apron, squeezing the bag like a total amateur.

Oikawa called out, “Futakuchi-cha—“

“Ya!” Makoto shouts at Futakuchi teasingly, his finger pointing at the work of the younger, probably looking hideous, because his next words were, “Are you even focused on what you’re doing?”

“What? Why?” Futakuchi says in pout, sounding like a little kid having his sand castle criticized at the beach by some bully, except that Makoto is never a bully without valid reason.

Oikawa jumps behind a post to hide, his senses heightened, especially his hearing, because uncontrollably, Oikawa likes knowing about other people’s businesses.

“Well, at least you spelled it right.” Oikawa hears Makoto say, so he peeks at the strange trio once more, and he sees the two professional bakers patting Futakuchi like he’s done a great job.

“I’m exceptional in my English class, Makoto-san.” Futakuchi boasts, and from afar, Oikawa believed him because he seemed so sure of himself. He decides to store that data in his head to test and confirm later to take advantage of it, like making him translate some  _ shit _ .

“Anyway, you did well for a boy that learned to bake for a little over two weeks.” The best lady baker in town tells Futakuchi, and Makoto nods encouragingly at the younger, which absolutely piques Oikawa’s interest greatly, so he steps out from where he was keeping his presence unknown.

He says in a calm voice, hoping to naturally insert himself into the conversation, “So are you working part time here?”

Opposed to his purpose, they all jumped back away from him with horrified faces, and as his face registers to their shocked minds, their movements started to become awkward and stiff.

“I—I’ll see if they need anything at the tables.” The lady said, leaving the counter without even greeting Oikawa like she always did before.

“Okay, then I’ll go—“ Makoto tags on, stammering, “I’ll go do something. Bye.” Then he shuffles away from them.

Oikawa only follows his figure as it disappears towards the indoor baking room, then Oikawa faces Futakuchi, his senses telling him that this is the same feeling he had the day he visited after he bought White Day chocolates.

“Are you their favorite highschooler now? Not me anymore? Why are they treating me like this?” Oikawa says loudly, purposefully letting his favorite baking lady to hear his dejection, then he speaks louder with his chin up so he wouldn’t look weak in front of the new chosen one, “They were like this last time as well and it hurts my feelings, you know.”

“Oikawa-san.” Futakuchi tried to say, but Oikawa has a flair for the dramatics, and he loves being unnecessarily theatrical.

He puts a finger up to shush the younger, flicking his head in a movement that says no, then he speaks, “Over two weeks now? You’ve been trying to overtake granny’s love for me that long already?”

“Oikawa- _ san _ .” Futakuchi rudely says again, taking whatever he was working on earlier and dropping it with a bang in front of Oikawa, his eyes crawling up to meet Oikawa’s before he said, “Shut up, you’re humiliating me.”

Oikawa feels his face muscles twitch in confusion, feeling gawky as Futakuchi stares at him. Oikawa blinks fast as he takes a deep breath, and then swallows to look down at the plate Futakuchi tossed in front of him.

“Happy White day...” Futakuchi says and Oikawa reads the badly written ‘ _ Happy White Day! - Futakuchi _ ’ on top of a heart shaped bread. Then Oikawa meets Futakuchi’s gaze once more, and he sees him smiling with a hint of devilishness in it as the younger continues speaking, “...you  _ stupid fucking moron _ .”

Oikawa felt like he was choking, struck speechless and dumbfounded as it slowly sank into his prideful brain that Futakuchi trained under his favorite bakers in order to give him a heart shaped pastry with some ugly pink syrup lettering on top of it.

_ Fuck— _

“Yeah, right!  _ Fuck _ . You ruined the surprise.” Futakuchi says in a manner that sounds like he’s joking, but his eyes and mouth were sharp as Oikawa looked at his face, most probably feeling annoyed at Oikawa, and he has all the right to be.

“Sorry, I didn’t—“

“Ah, shut up.” Futakuchi breathes out as he waggles his hand at Oikawa and the cake, “It’s for you anyway. Can we forget about this cretinous and preposterous incident you’ve caused?”

Futakuchi says perfectly in a half annoyed and half consoling manner, but his smirk was curved teasingly. Oikawa felt disappointed with himself and his nosy attitude, but it’s too late for regret, they should just move on from that embarrassment.

“Are you free?” Futakuchi asks and Oikawa blankly stares at him because he still hasn’t fully comprehended the situation, then Futakuchi adds another question, “Can we sit?”

Oikawa mutters a soft  _ ah _ , then he nods gingerly as he scratches his left shoulder with his right hand, feeling antsy with himself.

Futakuchi was about to get out behind the counter when some customers came, ordering for takeout, and he greeted them like he’s a staff member. He looks back at Oikawa first to wink at him, saying, “Go find us a table. I’ll be right there with you.”

Oikawa stood by as he observed how Futakuchi attended to the buyers, and it seemed like he had already adapted to the shop. A feeling spreads through Oikawa’s chest, but he can’t name it, nor does he want to.

—

Once Makoto came back from where he ran off to, he finally smiled and greeted Oikawa like normal. Even his mom went to where Oikawa was, and they apologized that they had to create a small distance from Oikawa in order to hide the fact that Futakuchi asked for their guidance in baking a heart shaped milkbread for White Day.

He learned that Futakuchi approached them right after the day he gave Futakuchi his sour gummies, and they were coincidentally short staffed then. Futakuchi struck a deal that he would be their new helper without a pay for two weeks so they can freely experiment with a lot of ingredients in perfecting an  _ ultra fluffy _ , heart shaped, cake-like milkbread.

“You guys really did end up as good friends, no?” Grandma excitedly exclaims with a wide smile, and it signals something in Oikawa.

“What do you mean, gramma?” Oikawa confusedly asks, wondering how she got to say they ‘ _did_ _end up as good friends’_ when the first time she saw them together, they had already claimed they were friends.

Futakuchi steps in then, laying down a tray with the bread he made and some drinks — milkshake for Oikawa, hot coffee for himself, and two cups of water. Then he says, “I told her about how we went from enemies to friends.”

Oikawa chokes on air, hearing Hanamaki saying ‘ _ enemies to lovers _ ’ and some more in his head from their conversation just some minutes earlier. Oikawa grabbed one cup of water from the tray and drank half of its contents, he thinks his mouth was dirty even if it wasn’t him who said it and he felt the need to wash it off.

“We’ll be leaving you two then.” Grandma says to Futakuchi as he pats her, then he grabs onto her son to walk back to their proper places.

The younger sits across Oikawa, and they were at their same positions on the same table they sat on the day they first stayed in this bakery cafe. It reminds Oikawa of just how much time has passed, and of just how little time they had to know each other. A mere four months' time felt longer because it was meaningful, but then a mere four months' time also seemed too short to say that it really had any meaning at all. It’s both long enough and too short at the same time.

Oikawa brings his gaze downwards at the heart shaped pastry Futakuchi baked with tons of effort, its bright pink syrup bleeding into the bread, saying Happy White Day.

Oikawa doesn’t know what to feel.

“Oikawa-san.” Futakuchi softly calls, carefully speaking, “Don’t overthink it. I’m just paying you back for the sour gummies.”

He smiles to reassure Oikawa, but there still is a heaviness in Oikawa’s chest that he can’t seem to put a label on.

He swallows the tightening around his throat, and he discreetly takes a deep breath before saying, “I’m the one in debt to you, aren’t I?”

Futakuchi says a  _ sheesh _ , irritated at Oikawa’s boring response, then he says, “Okay, whatever. Let’s just say this is your send off party of two or something.”

_ Send off party _ . Oikawa thinks.

_ Because I’m leaving soon, _ Oikawa tells himself inside his mind, and he realizes that it is one of the weights in his heart that is dragging it down, making every beat ache in the slightest.

Futakuchi probably notices Oikawa’s mood, because he sighs, and he calls again, this time with a demanding tone, “Oikawa-san.”

He gives the younger the attention he wanted, looking straight into the other’s eyes, and listens intently as he said, “I already told you. Don’t overthink it.”

Futakuchi smiles at him encouragingly, his expression and body gestures all pointing towards the handmade pastry, asking him to rid his thoughts and just start eating. He sees Oikawa get hesitant to move, and Futakuchi rips off a quarter of the heart shape, taking the word ‘white’ away from the sentence, and eats it. Leaving it as just ‘Happy Day - Futakuchi’. Oikawa thinks it was on purpose — Futakuchi changed the shape, and changed its meaning. Rather than symbolizing White Day, it just represented a happy day.

As Futakuchi is chewing, he tells Oikawa, “It’s milkbread with strawberry jam made by baachan. I’m not as good as her and Makoto-san in baking, but I did my best.”

Oikawa bites the inside of his lips, feeling like a fool for doubting himself if he should accept this gift, but hearing Futakuchi say that he did his best influenced Oikawa to make up his mind.

“Okay.” Oikawa breathes out, then he takes out his phone and finds a good angle.

“What are you doing?” Futakuchi asks, squinting at Oikawa and the gadget on his hand.

“Taking a picture of it even if it’s already ruined. You’re an impatient glutton.” Oikawa teases, slowly removing the chains he voluntarily told himself he should be tied to, but it’s okay to be free for the night, he says. It’s okay if it’s just for tonight. He knows he would be back in its bounds again anyway, but surely, he would slowly break them one by one in the future.

“Start fucking tasting it.” Futakuchi commands, and Oikawa cutely frowns at him before he takes one last photo of the pastry with Futakuchi somewhere in the background, and then pockets his phone back into his coat to obey.

Oikawa then brings his hands up on the table and then tears off the ‘happy’ side of the heart. He gives a positive reaction at how fluffy it is with a hum, and nods at Futakuchi who had his arms crossed naturally on top of the table, looking like he’s laid back, but his brows were tense, obviously needing some validation.

With an excited smile, Oikawa sniffs the warm puff of bread, then he continues to comment about it for Futakuchi because it seems like a detailed review of his baking would please him. He says, “Smells yummy. I wonder if it’s ultra fluffy? It looks fluffy enough.”

Oikawa takes a bite and Futakuchi nervously gulps as he watches, and just to torment the younger, he chews for a very long time without saying anything, and he laughs imaginatively while he watches Futakuchi’s face turn from hopeful to hopeless. A millisecond before Futakuchi’s face truly becomes a sad face, Oikawa happily huffs with a smile, “It’s good.”

“Hoo.” Futakuchi says as he couldn’t hide his relief and released a heavy exhale. He might have been holding it ever since Oikawa ate the bread, and it makes Oikawa laugh, saying, “Why are you so scared? It’s good, though as you said, it would not be on par with the best bakers in town, but you’ve got potential, Futakuchi Kenji.”

Oikawa smiles and wiggles his brows, the Futakuchi smirks back at him, combing a hand through his hair, his voice really sounding as if he was glad with the results as he said, “I’m glad you liked it.”

Oikawa felt his heartfelt handiwork on the pastry, and his taste buds sing in joy even if it wasn’t the best milkbread he had tasted, but he is content and satisfied.

He lowers his hand that was holding a piece of bread, then with a sincere voice, he whispers, “Thank you.”

Futakuchi looks back at him, wondering, then Oikawa continues with a better tone this time, definitively saying, “Thank you for this, Futakuchi-chan.”

The younger scoffs at him with a smug grin, then he says gently, “It’s nothing, Oikawa-san.”

—

While they finish their drinks and food, Futakuchi supplies stories of his wonderful time at the bakery. Baachan was a Dateko alumnus, and her second husband was jiichan who used to study at Aoba Johsai. They had a friendly rivalry and romantic tension before as the leaders for their school’s cheering squads, but they did not anticipate that they would end up together in the end.

Oikawa was shocked at the statement about the old lady remarrying because from his knowledge, she didn’t. Futakuchi calmed him down and told him he’s an idiot as a child because he once asked jiichan years ago who he is. When jiichan replied with ‘someone who loves baachan’, baby Oikawa responded with ‘oh, I love baachan too!’ innocently.

Jiichan then built his own business beside the bakery, which led him to not be around the bakeshop whenever Oikawa visited.

As the conversation went on, Oikawa’s memories of the candy store slowly got triggered.

He remembers two scenes. First is when he watched little kids compete on reaching the candy store first, and the second one was from his childhood wherein he and Iwaizumi were competing against each other to decide whether they’re buying milkbread or candy. Oikawa always won, so the candy store didn’t contribute a lot of memories to their childhood.

Now, it bothers him so much that it’s been years and he just found out about it now, thinking out loud, “So I’ve been living a lie for this long?”

Futakuchi hums lowly, then he says, “It seemed like your whole family was in on it, but it went on for too long that they never saw the right chance to tell you, so baachan asked me to do so.”

“I’ve been lied to and they can’t admit it themselves?” Oikawa says, mostly to himself.

“Baachan told me you were pretty close to her first husband.” Futakuchi slowly says, “And jiichan decided not to be introduced to you so your perspective on love won’t be influenced as a child.”

“Why does that sound absurd?” Oikawa says, finding that sentence unreasonable.

“I think it’s absurd too, but he’s also got a point somehow. Baachan told me he wanted to get close to you on his own in the future if it would happen, and now it did, right?” Futakuchi says, his voice sounding convincing.

Oikawa kept silent, still not sure what to do about what he just learned.

He hears Futakuchi sigh and pop some bones as he stretch, then he started to ramble, “Adults are so stupid. They can’t be good models of love, can’t explain love well, can’t justify love too, but they keep on loving. They said they did it so they won’t fuck up your perspective on love but you still ended up pretty twisted.”

Instead of answering, Oikawa kept sucking on his straw and purposely gave himself a painful milkshake brain freeze. Maybe the physical pain could freshen him up.

—

Baachan came to the table again to tell Futakuchi that he can get off work so he can go home with Oikawa, and Oikawa took the opportunity to tell her that he‘s been made aware that jiichan is her husband, and that he’s not sure what his reaction could have been if he was younger, but he’s okay with it. He’s not even real family so his opinion shouldn’t even matter, but he wanted to say that so he can be at peace with it, because her and her first husband basically took up the place of his real grandparents who died before he got to know them.

“Tooru-kun.” She starts, cupping Oikawa’s face with a small smile, “You  _ are _ family.”

Oikawa feels some wetness in his eyes, but he stops the feeling in a snap and stands up. He then bows to say goodbye, and turns his back to briskly get out of the shop, only to swiftly enter the neighboring candy store.

The bell chimes as he gets inside the empty store, jiichan looking up at him and then greeting him enthusiastically. The bells chimed once more as somebody followed after him, and jiichan was about to greet the newcomer as well but Oikawa spoke first.

“Jiichan.” He starts, and the old man focuses on him with a curious expression, so then he adds, “You’re baachan’s second husband?”

The man’s only reaction was a slight rise of his brows, and then he meekly nods once.

Oikawa sniffles, then he tries to blink away the tears building up in his eyes before saying, “Can you be my grandpa?”

Jiichan blinks, and was silent as his eyes roamed around like the question baffled him. Then he gives a puff of a chuckle, and he cheerily smiles as he tells Oikawa, “You’re already calling me  _ jiichan _ , Ru-kun. I’m not sure why you still felt the need to ask.”

Oikawa sniffles louder, hearing the nickname that he heard baachan used to call him a lot. Then he puts his hands together behind his back, standing tall, and with a strained voice, he voices out proudly, “Can I get a hug, then?”

He hears a laugh behind him, and he faces back to see Futakuchi snickering under his palm, muttering, “Cute.”

“Shut up.” Oikawa said with a hiss, then he faces jiichan again, seeing that the older is already walking towards him with open arms.

Oikawa didn’t even have to think twice, he walked right up to meet jiichan’s warmth and fell into his comforting embrace. He pushes through his throat that seemed to be closing and utters, “Thank you.”

Jiichan pats his head and his back, swaying side to side a little as he softly says back, “Anytime, grandson.”

—

At the bus stop, Oikawa continues to sniffle without shedding even a single drop of tear, and Futakuchi speaks about it, “I’m surprised you’re not crying.”

Oikawa ignores his taunt because he’s busy trying to stop his thoughts so he can feel free from the threat of his eyes leaking with emotions.

“I’m jealous of your family. You’re all extra but it’s so damn cute.” Futakuchi wistfully says as he places his hands inside his pockets.

Oikawa pouts, grunting before he said, “You fit right in. You might not have noticed yet but jiichan and baachan have already unofficially adopted you as well. My mom also likes you even if all you do in her presence is whine about Mario Kart. She thinks you’re cute because she likes Toad too. So you’re already family.”

“Am I?” Futakuchi chuckles, shyly looking at the ground, “That feels nice.”

Oikawa looks beside him, and smiles at the sight of a young lonely boy who looks relieved he has found a new place where he can belong.

He didn’t want to ruin the mood, but he can’t stop himself from overthinking and being pessimistic. It’s all he does, really.

“I’m sort of numb right now.” Oikawa says, then he looks away, scared about what expression Futakuchi might see on his face, then he adds, “All I can think about is that I’m leaving.”

“What? It’s not like you’ll be gone for good. You can come back for vacations.” Futakuchi tells him as he turns to look at Oikawa, his voice sounded optimistic, but Oikawa heard a hint of sadness laced together with it and it weighed on him.

Oikawa sighs loudly, considering what Futakuchi just said, but he’s different. He raises his shoulders then says, “You know me... I won’t be back until I think I deserve to do so.”

Futakuchi then takes his gaze off of Oikawa, clearing his throat, then he sniffs as he says, “Yeah, I‘m aware. It was just hopeless thinking.”

There was an uncomfortable silence that fell between them, and Oikawa felt responsible for it.

“I’m sorry.” Oikawa blurts out, not really sure specifically what it is for or why he is sorry. He just wanted to say it, as a self-centered, insensitive jerk.

“So...” Futakuchi starts, his tone with mirth in it as he whips his head to face Oikawa, “Are you the type to cut me off now? Or are you gonna make me wait for you?”

Oikawa felt the side of his face become hotter under Futakuchi’s stare, but he still didn’t meet his eyes and kept silent. The question feels like an arrow that was aimed at him in order to make him bleed.

Oikawa is no warrior or soldier. He’s a foolish king that builds and builds and builds walls and fortresses for defense so that no one may be able to enter and see what’s truly inside. He doesn’t get out of the comfort of his castle, he doesn’t get up from his throne, but for now he might just let such an arrow strike him just for the heck of it. Maybe it would be worth bleeding for, or maybe it can at least give him a memorable scar of humiliation he can keep close to him as a memento.

“If—“ He stutters, the cowardice in his body stopping him from speaking.

“If I’m the latter...” He tries, harder this time, and he pauses to finally glance at the person beside him.

He sees Futakuchi’s attentive eyes, willing ears, and friendly lips. It makes Oikawa’s defenses tremble, and it aches within his chest to keep them up and standing.

Oikawa releases a shaky breath, then with a fist of courage or narcissism, he says, “If I’m the latter, will you be able to wait for me?”

Futakuchi tilts his head as he unemotionally stares back at Oikawa, then suddenly he cackles, looking away and shaking his head while saying, “That’s a stupid question, Oikawa-san.”

The arrow hits him, and the piercing sting of it crawls all throughout his skin, then onto his nerves, as it passes through his insides.

“I thought so.” Oikawa responds quickly, concealing the disappointment and despondency in his voice, “It’s selfish, isn’t it?”

“No, you  _ dimwit _ .” Futakuchi chuckles again as he lightly pushes Oikawa’s head at the temporal with a finger, then he adds, “Don’t put me in the equation.”

Oikawa, confused as to why he is being ridiculed for his intelligence instead of acting like a privileged asshole, only blinked at Futakuchi as a response.

“The reason we’re letting go right now is for you to find what it is you need to find without having to carry some burden along with you. Don’t mind me, I’ll probably do my own thing too. We’re still young, you know?” Futakuchi talks, a believable glow on his face which makes him seem assuasive, freeing Oikawa from his fear and anxiety.

“It shouldnt matter to you whether or not I was able to wait for you.” Futakuchi continues, then he pauses again to show Oikawa a smile, softly speaking in a low, cozy voice, “Focus on yourself, Oikawa-san.”

Oikawa enters into a daze as he looks at Futakuchi, watching as his lids flutter, his lips curved in a gentle lovely smile, and his gaze boring into Oikawa’s insides to spread comforting warmth and fireflies to light it up, filling in the hole left by the arrow.

The ends of Oikawa’s lips turn upwards, finding the situation comical, ironic, idiotic, and pathetic all at the same time.

“We’re so bad at this.” Oikawa twits, a mocking laughter escaping through his lips.

Futakuchi wears a silly look, a lot alike as Oikawa’s, then he laughs as he nods, “I agree. We’re  _ horrifically  _ and  _ nauseatingly _ bad at this.”

Futakuchi looks back at him, still with an amused expression, but as he continue to see the details of his face, the more that his insides withered; the mole on his cheek a centimeter away from his ears, the bright red spot on the side of his lips that was probably from a nervous tic, and those milk chocolate brown irises that sees him as just who he is in the present.

Oikawa would miss this. Oikawa would miss his snappy attitude, his sarcasm, his dark humor, his immaturity and maturity, his vexing face, his scandalous lips, and his presence that Oikawa had found serenity in.

Oikawa can see Futakuchi deep in his thoughts as well, but he does not dare ask what it is about, and neither does Futakuchi ask him too.

A bus comes which snaps them out of their bubble, and Oikawa looks to see if it was his or Futakuchi’s, then he stands up because it was his ride home.

He looks at Futakuchi to say a quick message that he’s going first, then he boards the bus and waves his hand goodbye.

—

Oikawa’s seated comfortably, but there are some nerves because it would be his first plane ride alone with no one there to help him with his passport, the boarding, the baggage, and some more bullshit he used to let the adults worry about before. Today though, he’s on his own. He could have gotten a flight with his mentor, but he chose to get a later date to mentally and emotionally prepare himself.

This is him taking a risk for the future he wants for himself, a huge step in achieving his dreams, and hopefully, a way to find an answer to the question Oikawa doesn’t even know he’s been asking his whole life.

He brings his phone out to relieve some of his anxiety, and he scrolls through his gallery to look at the ugly photos his friends took on his phone so that he can have something to look at when he’s sad or feeling down. He swipes through the photos he has of Hanamaki and Matsukawa playing the pocky game, Iwaizumi flexing his muscles, and then he arrives at a picture that tugs on his heartstrings a bit.

It was a photo of him and Futakuchi. They met for the last time at the bakeshop when Oikawa visited to say his last goodbye to his chosen family. They all wished him the best and that he may be guided by those above whether they may be aliens or gods, whichever Oikawa prefers they said.

He talked to Futakuchi alone for some minutes, also saying his final personal goodbye, telling him to grow stronger, to take care of himself and his mom, to be beaten by Seijoh again, to stop being an ass and some more. That day, Futakuchi only listened, and when Oikawa finally stopped talking, he spoke, “What is it you want to say, Oikawa-san?”

Oikawa licks his lips and nods, he may have said a lot, and he may have meant all of what he blabbered about as well, but he did want to say this one thing, specifically these four words.

_ Don’t wait for me. _

Oikawa said back then, and he says it again in his head right now as he looks at their picture taken as they stand perfectly at the middle of the candy store and the bakery. One take of it was them sticking their tongues out with irritating faces, and the other was them just looking at each other.

_ Don’t wait for me _ .

Oikawa told him, and Futakuchi simply smiled back and nodded, responding so naturally as he said  _ alright _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> END !! FINALLY!! if towards the end you felt it slowly become worse, it did become worse. i got burnt out from writing this much words bc i only write like 50 words per month before this fic happened.
> 
> long a/n but uhm quick trivia: i deactivated my twt acc bc of some things and told myself i wont reactivate it until i finish this and THANK GOD i finished it before the 30 day deadline. i worked on this for more than a month tho so please god if you can comment anything, please do. HA HA. ive never put effort as much as i did into this piece of shit HEHHUDDJDHHD tell me what u think abt that shitty ending. but you’re free not to. this aint compulsory, hekhek.
> 
> but! thank you for reading. i love you if you got to finish this SLOOWWWWWWWW !! burn fic even if i didnt actually make it BURN !! in the end and even gave a goddamn open ending lmfao im a bitch, but like. i wrote this bc of the thought i had when i was standing inside a crowded bus, and i thought “futakuchi could smell like sour gummies and oikawa knows that but then one time he would smell him mint-ish and he’d be like ‘oh why is he minty’” and shit but that aint even the plot of this (insert word count) worded fic. my plot went up, down, over and under like a rollercoaster i did not prepare for, and i Love rollercoasters but this one? i did enjoy it but am i proud of it? mmmmmm....
> 
> also i never NEVER intended to include in iwaoi angst or even matsuhana bc i thought this was gon b just an easy cute little 2-4k worded fic whatever but it turned into this disastrous fucking aboslute unit monster so yeah. fuck.
> 
> btw did anyone notice how i didnt make them romantically touch (hold hands, hug, kiss whatever) at all except for that one time futakuchi hinted to oikawa that pointing at people is rude and offensive when i wrote (insert word count) words about the two of them falling in love or not??? i just wanted them vibing and thinking each other’s brains are SEXC. so then this turned out to not be an oifuta fic but just an oikawa fic so like (ouo) ok
> 
> anyway aaa !! thank you for reading again. i wanna say a lot of things tbfh but i might just rant abt it on twt. can we be friends on twitter ?? bc i desperately need oifuta moots?? my user's @hqch392 teehee. (i also have a backup [tumblr](https://yasutomoe.tumblr.com/) acc i use sometimes.)
> 
> AND AGAIN. THANK U ILYSMMMM


	2. young folks in crack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oifuta’s chat box when they were in different countries that may or may not be taken seriously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i meant to put some of these in the actual fic but decided against it lmao. but the last part is important !!
> 
> ji is futakuchi kenJI  
> ru is oikawa tooRU

**(july 20)**

**ji** : happy birthday, how are you adapting there?

**ru** : Thanks. I’m alive and barely happy.

**ji** : why :((

**ru** : *very horny

**ji** : huh?

**ru** : I meant to say I’m alive and very horny. The ladies and gents and non binaries are all smoking hot in this place.

**ji** : oikawa-san

**ru** : I was joking. I’m drunk and fucking lonely.

**ji** : :(((

**ru** : Oh, I think my day’s become better.

**ji** : :)))

**ru** : Fuck I hate this day again

**ji** : what is wrong with you?

* * *

**(november 10)**

**ru** : Happy birthday! Have you seen my instagram post yet??

**ji** : oh you did it right this year huh, but i didnt know you had a picture of me wearing my green crocs at the beach that time, oikawa-san.

**ru** : I like taking blackmail photos.

**ji** : what u mean. i look good in it.

**ru** : Yeah, i admit.

**ji** : gay.

**ru** : Bitch.

* * *

**(random day in december)**

**ji** : can u at least put credit instead of just captioning it with an “I miss...”

**ru** : What?

**ji** : you posted a picture of MY lamp and the top of my head while i was asleep. you could have at least tagged me for my artistry.

**ru** : No way. Last time Makki, Mattsun and Iwa-chan grilled me because they didnt know we were close enough that I got to be in your car.  I dont want to let them know we’re at a beach with a lamp at night too ykno.

**(later that day)**

**ru** : You fucking bastard.

**ji** : what? is it wrong that i posted a picture of my lamp and captioned it with an “i miss you too”????

**ru** : I’m blocking you

**ji** : u won’t tho

**ji** : wait you really did????

**ji** : oikawa-san?????

**ji** : hey????

**(the next day)**

**ru** : I unblocked u now so can u please stop asking my friends for my ugly highschool photos and posting it???

**ru** : Futakuchi-chan

**ru** : Futakuchi Kenji.

**ru** : Okay, okay !! I lost this war so please delete your posts already???

**ji** : can i get to keep one?

**ru** : No.

**ji** : ok i’ll post another one then

**ru** : FUCK IT U GET TO KEEP ONE

* * *

**(july 20, futakuchi is now in college)**

**ji** : heard u like juicy gossips

**ru** : yeah?

**ji** : well yahaba doesnt want u to know this but he’s dating kyoutani. can u give me yahaba dirt back??

**ru** : Fuck???? He was the straightest guy in the team before I left.

**ji** : ah thats a good one.

**ji** : and by the way he also told me it’s your birthday today? here’s ur birthday gift.

**ji** : ( _ picture of kyouhaba gaying _ )

**ji** : and happy birthday.

**ru** : This is so chaotic of you, and I think you’re fucking drunk, but thank you.

( **some hours after** )

**ji** : i’m awake and i have a bad hangover. kunimi has an ugly sleeping picture of me and ennoshita’s having fun with it. i beg you for some kunimi blackmail material.

**ru** : He had a crush on me.

**ji** : understandable. next.

* * *

**ru** : Suga-chan sent me a video

**ji** : i’ve been scarred by that video already please dont

**ji** : i dont want that image of kageyama and kindaichi anymore

**ru** : WHAT?!

**ji** : wait what video are u talking about

**ru** : WHAT?!

—

**ji** : ok so what video was it u actually wanted to talk about?

**ru** : You kissing Yahaba and then Kyoutani

**ru** : What’s the back story? I don’t think Mad Dog-chan would want to kiss anyone except Iwa-chan and apparently his boyfriend Yahaba.

**ji** : oh HAHAHAHA well it was a dare and they dared me to kiss yahaba, i of course asked kyoutani first if i can and he nodded so i went ahead and did it

**ji** : Yahaba made this sound ykno idk. kyoutani told me he hasnt made yahaba produce that kinda moan yet and he asked me to tell him how.

**ji** : i asked yahaba “can i teach him?” and he shyly said go ahead and i asked him again if he’s sure and he said yeah. then i asked the same thing to kyoutani and he also said ok

**ji** : and i let him learn it physically bc that’s faster

**ru** : Impressive, but really ...

**ru** : What kind of bullshit is your generation on???

**ji** : we just wanna do crimes, and be gay

* * *

**(** **summer some time in college** **)**

**ji** : u know, we didnt have summer together.

**ru** : Huh? suddenly?

**ji** : we met when the leaves were falling, got warmer for each other in the winter, then you left when the flowers started to bloom.

**ru** : Are you a fucking poet now?

**ji** : no but i’m fucking a poet.

**ru** : Spill.

**ji** : kuroo tetsurou

**ru** : Kuroo-chan’s a fucking poet???

**ji** : that’s what’s shocking to you?

**ru** : What? Should I be shocked about your terrible taste in men?

**ru** : Wait, wasn’t he with their libero uhh ... Yaku-kun? when did they break up?

**ji** : he’s actually a fucking sap though. he’s not that bad.

**ji** : who says they broke up?

**ru** : Futakuchi-chan... you’re fucking Kuroo-chan behind Yaku-kun’s back?

**ji** : is that literally or figuratively? bc yes?? we do sometimes??

**ru** : He lets Kuroo-chan cheat?

**ji** : who says kuroo’s cheating?

**ru** : But you’re fucking Kuroo-chan !!

**ji** : and i’m also fucking yaku-san while i’m at it??? is that cheating???

**ru** : Forget it. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.

* * *

**ji** : remember when u said iwaizumi-san’s straight as fuck?

**ji** : he’s fucking not.

**ru** : Yea, he told me some time ago.

**ji** : and yOU DIDNT REPORT TO ME? but hey, arent you gon make your move on him?

**ru** : Futakuchi-chan, I don’t have to report to you about the sexualities of my friends. And also, I’ve already told you. I love him, but I don’t want to be with him.

**ji** : ok so i can kiss him again then?

**ru** : WHAT?!

**ru** : REPLY TO ME BITCH

* * *

**(some years into the future)**

**ru** : Guess who I met?

**ru** : ( _ picture of oihina _ )

**ru** : THIS BALL OF SUNSHINE

**ji** : oh??? (O u O) i think you have smth to spill

**ru** : He’s a delight

**ji** : ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

**ru** : Yeah

**ji** : aone takanobu the hinatasexual male is gon be so fucking jealous.

**ru** : Aren’t we all Hinatasexual though?

**ji** : point taken

* * *

**[** **MORE YEARS LATER** **]**

**ru** : Hey, where u at?

**ji** : thanking god i’m anywhere but near you

Oikawa presses call on his phone as he walks out of a bakery, putting his free hand into the pocket of his shorts as he places his phone beside his ear. He hears the chime of a familiar bell hung on a door, together with the ringing of a phone.

His call finally gets through, and he hears a hello in person and a slightly delayed electronic one through the speakers of his mobile phone.

Oikawa faces whoever just came out of the shop besides the bakery he just visited, and he chuckles at the universe’s hilariously and awfully timed coincidences as if they were all on cue before he ends his call.

“Hey.” Oikawa calls out to the one looking at his phone, confused and wondering why a rare call from a jerk got suddenly cut off.

Oikawa’s voice registers in the other and he looks up to meet his eyes, then Oikawa says, “Missed me?”

After years of not meeting, Futakuchi Kenji squints at him as he scans Oikawa’s face, checking to see if what he’s seeing is the real Oikawa Tooru.

Oikawa shows his signature obnoxious smirk, and Futakuchi raises his brows, done with his facial recognition check.

The other scoffs, and then coughs when some air got caught in his throat, and when he composed himself, he stood up straight and stiffly answered Oikawa, “No, I didn’t.”

This still is the same asshole Oikawa knew back in high school, but now with shortly chopped hair that shows off more of his face and instead of highschool uniform, he’s wearing summer clothes. Oikawa takes a long hard look on his features before he unashamedly states, “I did though.”

Futakuchi’s default shit eating grin widens, then he puts his hands in his shorts pockets as he looks away, gazing at the street market that evolved for the better since Oikawa last saw it, then the younger asks, “You going somewhere?”

“Mmm.” Oikawa ponders, and he sighs, honesty upon his lips as always, “I’ve found you already, so right now, nothing specific yet.”

“Wanna hop in then?” Futakuchi raises his hand and gestures it towards a black CUV, “I have a driver’s license now.”

Oikawa chuckles, feeling the two of them slowly mold into each other’s wavelengths perfectly again, like two gears falling in synchronization, “Of course.”

They walked towards the car, and as they got themselves comfortable, Futakuchi asked, “Got anywhere you want to go to?”

Oikawa tries to think of somewhere, but he, and can never emphasize it enough, is  _ still _ horrible with handling decisions, so he sinks deeper into his seat.

Just like what he did ages ago, he simply muttered with a carefree smile, “ _ Anywhere _ .”

* * *

spending all my nights alone, waiting for you to call me

you're the only one I want by my side when I fall asleep

tell me what I'm waiting for

tell me what I'm waiting for

i know it's hard, but we need each other

know it's hard, but we need each other

back and forth, I'll take that if that's all you asking for

with my legs up on the dashboard

only thing in my pocket is my passport, pa- passport

so, do you love me, love me, love me?

do you love me, love me, love me?

do you love me, love me, love me?

[do you love me, love me?](https://genius.com/Brockhampton-sugar-remix-lyrics)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok thats it yall. please read brockhampton’s lyrics for sugar !! and the remix w dua lipa in it !! bc that song is BASICALLY this fic like i cannot believe yall. it’s even titled sugar like brooooo whys it suit so well. :’)))
> 
> (i made a fic that's kinda connected to this but it is not necessarily a continuation so peep [happy.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27481759) if you would like to give me and my bs some more attention.)
> 
> as always, thank u for reading !! i hope you guys enjoyed this wreck of my feelings for oifuta hfhfhfhf. hopefully the 40k+ words were worth your time?? now please go waste your time on better things now. HAHAHA

**Author's Note:**

> it’s been 4 months since i posted this fic and forgot to link my [spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2lPr4u0N81ahmB7Csy89Eu?si=KsbCwW8ETreBSUEeNoNUQQ). hope yall listen to it (and in chronological order). teehee.


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